


Blast (En)

by Wrynn



Series: Dog Tags [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Violence, Déminer!Clark, Explosives, Gun Violence, Implied Sexual Content, Iraq War, M/M, NO rape, POV!Clark, Sniper!Bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 131,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrynn/pseuds/Wrynn
Summary: Sergeant First Class Clark Kent, a US Army deminer, finds himself transferred to a new base under the command of Major Bruce Wayne, a sniper. These two men, who are at odds with each other, will have to team up in the middle of a war for their survival and that of their comrades. POV Clark. Superbat; Forbidden - 15 years. 1st part of the DOG TAGS dilogy
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, SuperBat - Relationship
Series: Dog Tags [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983778
Comments: 103
Kudos: 120





	1. Week 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters in this fiction belong to DC Comics. The universe of the fiction is inspired by the movie "The Hurtlocker"
> 
> This fiction is Rating M for the violence of certain passages and homosexual scenes (Superbat).
> 
> There were no scenes of sexual violence.
> 
> The facts recounted in this fiction have never existed (I sincerely hope so). The entire content of this story is a FICTION and I insist heavily at the beginning of the story that the message be well anchored. Some data, so that the story is more "constructed" are however real, but not necessarily in the right period (there will be some anachronisms, especially regarding the use of a certain explosive).
> 
> I hope that the translation will not be too bad (let me know if it is).
> 
> Blast is part 1 of the Dog Tags dilogy
> 
> On that note, I wish you a good reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters in this fiction belong to DC Comics. The universe of the fiction is inspired by the movie "The Hurtlocker"
> 
> This fiction is Rating M for the violence of certain passages and homosexual scenes (Superbat).
> 
> There were no scenes of sexual violence.
> 
> The facts recounted in this fiction have never existed (I sincerely hope so). The entire content of this story is a FICTION and I insist heavily at the beginning of the story that the message be well anchored. Some data, so that the story is more "constructed" are however real, but not necessarily in the right period (there will be some anachronisms, especially regarding the use of a certain explosive).
> 
> I hope that the translation will not be too bad (let me know if it is).  
> PS : I translate my own fiction, you can find the original in french on my profile.
> 
> Blast is part 1 of the Dog Tags dilogy
> 
> On that note, I wish you a good reading!

# Week 1

* * *

  * _**Day 1 (10/08)** _



He protected his eyes from the sun's rays and, putting his cap back on his head, he got out of the Humvee. The air was hot, there was a bit of wind that lifted the sand and just by the look of the base, it made him even more annoyed to be there. He sighed, thinking that he was going to be there for a while longer, if he wasn't transferred somewhere else again.

Getting his package, he went to the administration building where Colonel Jones was waiting for him. Upon entering the building, he took off his cap and sunglasses and tried to adjust his appearance. It was as if he was trying to look his best in front of his new superior. He knocked on the door, waiting until he was allowed to enter.

He found himself in front of a tall black man with an uncomfortable appearance. He greeted him as he introduced himself.

"Sergeant First Class Clark Kent, sir."

"At ease Sergeant. I'm Colonel John Jones. You're our deminer, right?"

Kent lowered his hand and nodded his head.

"That's right, sir. This is my order of assignment."

He took out of his bag the famous paper that had brought him here and the senior officer seemed to check that everything was in order, before nodding his head.

"I will introduce you to your new team. Please follow me."

The colonel passed in front of him and with a rhythmic pace they moved through the camp.

Colonel Jones took the opportunity to tell him what the buildings were like, such as the operations building, the dormitories, the kitchens, the ammunition shed, and other things. He only said it once, explained everything vaguely and did not repeat it. Kent asked very few questions, simply memorizing as much as possible of the flow of information the colonel was giving him.

They first passed through the NCO's dormitories, where Kent was happy to have a room for him to put his things. He remembered another camp in southern Iraq, where he had had little comfort on that side. But they didn't linger long. They went to the soldiers' dormitory, which they themselves were not fortunate enough to have any privacy.

In front of the large tent a dark-haired man seemed to be waiting for them. The colonel introduced them.

"Major Wayne, this is Sergeant Kent, your new deminer."

Kent felt as if he was being judged at first sight. Wayne seemed as expressive as the colonel. The rest was promising. If they were all this apathetic, he was going to end up being transferred again because he didn't fit the mold.

"We'll see what he gives."

A great cold tone to welcome him! Kent was cheerful in advance.

"I'll leave him to you, Major."

Then without another word, Jones left. Immediately, Wayne warned him before entering the tent:

"With my team we will be in charge of your protection, but I warn you: if you do not obey my orders, there will be no one to cover you. I will not risk the lives of my men for suicidal people like you."

Well, at least that was clear, neat and precise. It gave him a direct indication of color and temperature. Kent made a big effort not to retaliate, which was also his specialty. Then they came in.

All heads turned towards them. Some were playing cards while others seemed to be just talking. They all stopped in their activity to watch him.

"This is Sergeant Kent, our newcomer. He will be the bomb squad deminer for my team. These are Privates Jordan, Allen, who are also on the team. Here are Privates Hol, Curry, Queen, Stewart, Prince and Lance."

They all greeted him with a wave of the hand, a bad expression on his face. OK. The integration was going to be difficult.

* * *

  * **_Day 2 (10/08)_ **



Kent remembered something he really didn't like, and that was the damn roads in Baghdad. Between the bombings, explosions and the basic state of the roads, he was shaken around in the Humvee like a plum tree. It was a reflection that he made every time he got into one of his vehicles, several times a day. It was the kind of thought that forced him to remember that home was better.

He hadn't really had time to become part of his team. It wasn't something he particularly wanted to do, but he didn't understand the animosity everyone had towards him. He knew that it wasn't because of his file, since normally no one had read it, but he was sure that this bad mood was only due to him. Never mind. He would end up being transferred elsewhere.

The vehicle stopped. Wayne made his briefing.

"I heard that at the end of this street another team saw some electrical wires in the ground. Your move, Kent."

"I have to go talk to them."

Wayne nodded his head and they set off, on their guard. This whole country wanted them dead, no way is he going to let them have them. As they walked down the street, he saw the Iraqis coming out of their house, looking out the window, scrutinizing them. He knew that many of them wanted to see them blow up. It made them even more stressed.

They joined the other team 50 meters away, hiding behind a building.

"You're the deminer ?" asked the team leader.

Kent could recognize some of the soldiers he had seen at the camp.

"Yes. Sergeant Kent, sir."

"Major Palmer. Well, let me explain: big wires under the rubble, just at the crossroads. We didn't see any explosives, but it's probably an IED."

An Improvise Explosive Device, then. Kent must have had his nose on it to confirm it.

"Jordan, go get the Humvee," Wayne ordered.

"You've set up a roadblock ?" Kent asked.

"Yes, within a radius of 75 meters."

Kent waited for the vehicle to arrive to put on his outfit. It always took a long time, he hated to wear it but it always protected him a bit. In his big bomb suit he had little mobility, he was hot inside and with his big reinforced helmet he had less visibility. He hated his protective suit. When he could, he didn't wear it. But with his new team, he wasn't going to break any safety rules yet.

So he walked towards the crossroads.

"I'm less than 10 meters from the crossroads," he said over his radio.

" **Copy that, 10 meters.** "

He scanned the ground, moving more slowly: if he set foot on a mine, he was finished.

"I found electric wire. I'm going to follow it."

Kent pulled gently on the wire to dislodge it from the rubble and followed him. He walked several meters across the crossroads to get between two buildings.

" **Allen, do you have a visual on Kent?** "

" **Not one.** "

Kent then saw the wire coming out of the rubble and up the wall of the building. He then came face to face with a man in front of him with a small black object in his hand. Fuck. A bloody contact trigger. It was right next to the wire. All he had to do was reach out his arm and it blew the whole thing up.

" _Go away. Leave and I'll let you live."_

His Arabic wasn't bad. He knew that the man in front of him had understood him.

" **Kent, what's going on?** "

The Iraqi was hesitant. Kent felt this familiar feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach. His life could end in less than a second if he couldn't convince him.

" _Go away to live."_

He remained calm, used to stressful situations. In his helmet he could hear Wayne bawling:

" **Kent! What's going on? Does anyone have a visual?** "

If only he could keep his mouth shut! Kent stared at the Iraqi, who also challenged him with his eyes. He wanted to test him. To test his determination. Kent was ready to dive in on him to try and stop him. They stayed several minutes like that, looking at each other like dogs.

" _Go away !"_

The Iraqi was startled and after a few seconds of hesitation, he ran in the opposite direction to disappear. Kent let out his breath. He quickly grabbed the end of the wire.

"There's a guy running away to the East, 5'9", bald, bearded, dressed in beige. He has the detonator."

Less than a minute later, he heard Humvees starting up, shouts of soldiers in the distance. He took the end of the line with him and followed the path backwards.

" **Target neutralized, no detonator. What the hell was that, Kent?! When I ask a question you answer me!** "

Kent clenched his teeth while walking.

"If I had taken the time to answer you, we might all be dead by now!"

It had come out too fast for him to stop. He fell on something heavy.

"I'm on it."

He crouched down gently and cleared the debris with his fingertips. It may have been the only part of his body that wasn't protected. He then fell onto a plastic bag and gently tore it open to see what was inside.

"Shit," he let go of what was actually an IED. "Major Palmer was right. Extend the security perimeter another 75 meters. Move back."

" **Roger that.** "

He then heard Wayne shouting in the distance and the sounds of vehicles and movement. Instead, he focused on what was in front of him: a shell that must have been 155mm, maybe more. This little gem of explosive could send shrapnel over a radius of 150 meters.

It didn't take Kent long to defuse the shell. What took him the longest was having to delicately dislodge the wires to cut the good ones. After that, the specialists would only have to come and retrieve the explosive charge. His job was simply to make sure that nothing exploded or could explode. He breathed a sigh of relief when he had finished and checked the area for any more shells.

"It's done, we can pack it up."

When he returned to his team, Jordan helped him remove his equipment while Allen and Wayne watched the area. As they got into their vehicle, Kent didn't miss the glare of his supervisor. He knew that once he got back to the base, he would get his suspenders back up.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Well, he had clearly been yelled at. It was quick, Wayne was very verbal and only lasted a minute. It was a minute in which Kent didn't want to say anything. Clearly Wayne didn't like having his authority questioned. Clearly an asshole, this guy. If it wasn't going the way he wanted it to go, it seemed to offend him a lot.

When he left the Major's quarters, he had been observed quite a bit by the soldiers around and went straight to his own room. In any case, he was not there to make friends.

* * *

  * _**Day 5 (10/11)** _



"Don't bullshit, please. I don't wanna die."

"It's okay, Allen. It's gonna be okay."

Kent tried to be as reassuring as possible. Leaning over a land mine, he had little visibility of the small object and he didn't want to risk moving his foot at this point.

"Kent, hurry up. We're not welcome here."

Wayne was posted two meters away from them, at a window. Jordan was watching the door of the room they were in. They were in a small house whose mud floor had been used to hide what was trapping his colleague.

"You know that if it jumps, you're going to jump, too," Kent said for the umpteenth time since they were there.

"Major, go with Jordan," implored Allen. If it blows, I don't want you to die for nothing.

"Cut the crap, Barry! We're all going to get out of here together," replied Jordan.

Kent concentrated on the small object under his colleague's sole. He had no visibility and he couldn't position himself properly. Damn it. As if he didn't already have more pressure with the others around them.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was so hot in here. No. He was the one who was too hot. He took a deep breath. As he tried to reach the internal mechanism of the mine, he saw Allen's leg shaking. He could not blame the soldier. He had not been able to move for more than fifteen minutes, he was in a rather uncomfortable posture and fear was eating away at him. The biggest risk now was becoming Allen.

Kent frowned. He had a solution that was going to complicate his task in another way and was much more risky for him. But now he had to act before he finally changed his mind. He stuck his foot to his colleague's foot.

"Allen, when I get you out of there, you'll have to leave."

"No need to tell me twice!"

Kent stood on his feet and took a deep breath. When he was ready, he gave Allen's leg a big kick, pushing his foot with his own at the same time.

Allen fell backwards to the ground, while Kent now had his foot on the mine. He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't weigh as much as Allen, but Allen had his gun. That made up for some of the weight loss, as Kent had put his M4 down.

"Damn Kent," Wayne cried.

Allen got up off the ground with his help, totally surprised.

"Now you're going to get out," Kent cried. "I don't want to die and you're not helping me by staying here!"

He felt a big drop of sweat running down his face as everyone was looking at him. I guess he didn't look very confident. He really wasn't. Wayne scrutinized him before he made his decision.

"Jordan you have our backs. We're waiting outside for you Kent, so make it quick."

He nodded his head and watched them leave the room, before looking into his case. Now he really didn't think he was very smart. But he'd get away with it.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"To Kent guys! Without him we would be dead!"

"Yeah!" shouted the others in chorus.

Kent was embarrassed. But at least the atmosphere was relaxed with the soldiers. They had invited him to eat at their table in the evening. So that's how he found himself in the midst of soldiers who, for the first time since his arrival, had consideration for him.

"I'm sorry I misjudged you, Sergeant," Jordan apologized.

Kent nodded.

"I'm used to it. You can all be on first-name terms with me, I feel like an old man if you don't!"

There were bursts of laughter around him and Kent looked at them all: the soldiers he had met on the first day were part of two other teams, one led by Major Palmer and the other by Major Stone. Kent had learned that he had integrated a unit with very specific operations.

"All right Kent! I think we owe you some real introductions. We all have nicknames here. I'm Flash. I'm the fastest on the base!"

Kent had a smile.

"It's very pretentious. I want to see that!"

Allen winked at him as he ran his hand through his short shaved blond hair.

"Whenever you want Kent."

"You can't beat him. I'm very fast too, and I haven't been able to beat him yet."

He turned his head to the brunette sitting next to him, her eyes almost as blue as his own. She reached out her hand.

"Diana Prince. My nickname is Wonder Woman."

He squeezed her with a smile and felt the strength in his grip, then he released his hand. The next one continued.

"My name is Queen. Oliver."

"He's called Arrow because this sniper prefers to shoot arrows when he's at home," Jordan laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

"Arrows are more discreet," he defended himself.

"I prefer firearms. You run out of munition less. I'm John Stewart, the Architect."

Kent felt Flash bend over to his ear :

"Stewart is the best sniper in the camp. He out-performs Wayne by about 30 shots. This guy scans the buildings like nobody else, he's got a real compass in his eye."

Kent nodded his head, impressed. Another blond got up from the table to shake his hand.

"I'm Arthur Curry. This bunch of morons call me Aquaman because I'm the only one who enjoys the rain. At the same time, it's too hot in this damn country!"

He then got out of the tent grumbling about the heat. He then saw a redhead approaching him:

"Shayera Hol, but they call me Shay. The one who throws out my nickname I knock him out."

At least it had the merit of being clear. Kent turned his head towards Allen, who grimly told him that he certainly didn't want to take the risk.

"Frankly, you can't complain about your nickname, Shay. Mine is even more ridiculous."

"It's true," said the redhead, giggling.

"My name is Dinah Lance and they've been calling me Canary ever since they heard my dad call me that on a PRIVATE call."

Queen, Jordan and Allen burst out laughing.

"I was just passing by, I assure you," said Arrow, laughing even more.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's talk about yours, Jordan."

He widened his smile.

"I'm proud of my nickname! Lantern!"

Kent frowned.

"Why Lantern?"

"Because this guy only shines through his bullshit."

The whole table burst into laughter and Kent thought he understood that it was a common occurrence. The whole round table was over. Curious, he asked another question:

"And do your superiors have one?"

Allen nodded his head.

"Yes. Palmer is Atom. He got his nickname from an OpEx in Afghanistan. Stone is Cyborg. He was injured in a tank explosion and took a shrapnel in the head. He's back on the field with a metal plate in his skull, so he became Cyborg! And for Wayne... Wayne is the Bat. He's the guy who comes up behind your back without you noticing, who blends into the night like nobody else; even better than Stewart -"

"It's racist," commented the black sniper with a smile.

"And this guy, he's entrenched in his quarters all the time. When he goes out and stays with us, he's at a distance as an observer. You'll see by yourself. And yet, he knows us all really well!"

Kent felt like Allen was telling a legend. It was weird for him when it was about a guy he didn't like. But he was curious, and now he had a better understanding of the phenomenon.

So he spent a good evening with everyone and learned a lot more about them. The little anecdotes were funny and if he himself didn't give many, he knew that this time he had managed to fit in better than before. He hoped that it would continue in this way. When he left them in the evening to go to bed, he saw Wayne's gaze in the building across the street, watching him from his window. In fact, this guy might have scared the hell out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps : I translate my own fiction, you can find the original in french on my profile


	2. Week 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the translation will be correct, I'm trying to improve. Let me know if there are big misunderstandings!  
> Enjoy reading!

# Week 2

* * *

  * _**Day 8 (10/14)**_



Kent dodged the threatening arm that was coming at him and backed away in a quick motion.

"You can't get me Lantern! "

He dribbled to the side and passed to Prince, who scored the basket.

"Well done, Di," cried Allen.

"Don't get too excited, Flash, we're still 8 points ahead," Jordan said with a defiant look.

What was certain was that Jordan and Allen still seemed to be competing.

"It's coming up fast, 8 points," smiled Arthur as he intercepted a pass between Hol and Stewart.

Allen received the pass and drew to score another basket. Hol was about to make the face-off when a shrill whistle stopped them:

"All dressed up! Allen! Jordan! Kent! At the Humvee in two minutes! "

Wayne was very direct. Kent went to get his stuff and was ready in two minutes. He saw the others getting equipped too, but had a debriefing just before. He and Allen looked at each other and then got in the back of the vehicle.

In the front seat, it was still Jordan the driver and Wayne as the front passenger. Wayne waited until they left the camp to explain the situation:

"We were called to help another team, they had a flat tire on the road. We arrived, we helped them, we left. "

"With so many vehicles? " asked Jordan.

Wayne shook his head.

"No, they've been called elsewhere. "

Kent wondered if his superior could be more sympathetic.

It took them more than an hour and a half to reach the vehicle in question. Their vehicle was easily recognizable in the middle of the desert. They then saw the four men outside with what appeared to be a prisoner. The man had a hood over his head and was tied up.

Jordan parked the Humvee a few meters from them. Wayne was the first to get out.

"Major Wayne. I hear you have a flat tire? "

"Major Henshaw. I think we got more than that. I don't know what we got, but it won't start up again. "

Wayne nodded.

"I'm going to take a look at this, I know a little bit about it. "

"Me too. "

Kent walked towards him and was stared at again. Then Wayne turned to the broken vehicle and raised the hood. Kent removed his M4 and passed under the vehicle before Wayne's legs went over him.

"Nothing unusual. Anything, Kent? "

Bruce's tone was firmer when he spoke to him. Obviously, he either didn't like it or he hadn't proven himself yet. He turned his attention back to what was right in front of him. He spotted something very strange.

"I think I've got something. "

He retrieved his flashlight and examined the pipes more closely.

"There are a lot of stuck metal pieces. It looks like-"

He was interrupted when he felt his feet being grabbed and pulled.

"Rocket!" Wayne shouted.

Kent had the reflex to grab his gun and, drawn by Wayne, he threw himself into the ditch along the road. The explosion of the vehicle threw him forward and he lost his weapon when he fell.

The adrenaline suddenly rose. Reactive, he retrieved his weapon and analyzed the situation: they had only a few seconds to react before the shooter aimed at their second vehicle. Wayne felt the same way. He ran to their Humvee.

"Cover me! "

Kent stood next to him and fired his M4 in front of them. He didn't see where the rocket came from, but he fired anyway.

"Cover fire !" he shouted.

He didn't know if there were wounded or dead, but he didn't have time to check. He saw Wayne pull a Barrett out of the vehicle. He emptied his entire magazine. Wayne ran towards him just before their Humvee exploded.

Kent came out of the mound and drawn Wayne, who had plunged to the ground. Wayne nodded his breath and the two of them looked at what had happened to the others. With the black smoke from the explosions, they didn't have much visibility. That meant the enemy wasn't very visible either.

"Kent! Wayne! "

They turned in Jordan's direction, but did not see him.

"We're all right, Hal," Wayne shouted. "Where's Barry? "

"He's knocked out, but he's okay. I'm with Carter, one of Henshaw's men. We're here! "

Kent and Wayne then saw two helmets rise up over another mound about ten yards away from them. Immediately, they were fired upon. Kent took advantage of the diversion to move into their hollow and take a look over the butte. The two vehicles were completely destroyed, Henshaw and their prisoner were dead and the other two appeared to be wounded. They were a few meters away from them.

"Wayne. I'll go get them. "

The Major turned on his radio.

"Covering fire on my signal. "

" **Roger that.** "

He and Kent gave each other a knowing look. Kent put down his M4 and prepared to leave.

"Now! "

As soon as the shooting began, Kent ran. As fast as he could. He dived to the level of the first man and shot him, Wayne landing him in the ditch. He did the same with the second man.

"It's okay guys," Kent said over his radio.

The shooting stopped on their side and then the shooting stopped on the other side too.

" **We counted at least three shooters, at one o'clock.** "

"Copy," Wayne said as he watched the wounds of the first soldier.

Kent took care of the other. His had dislocated his shoulder and was slowly regaining consciousness.

"Major... Sam... Hank... "

He took care of his arm and looked at his name on his uniform.

"Ramon, calm down. The major is dead. Carter is fine. What's your name? "

"Paco. How's Baker? Bud. "

Kent turned his head to Wayne, who shook his head negatively.

"Baker is dead too. I'm sorry. "

"No way... we were just an escort... nobody knew... "

The soldier in front of him burst into tears. Kent tried to reassure him.

"We'll get through this, soldier. Pull yourself together. "

The man nodded his head as he tried to stop his tears. Kent left him and turned to Wayne, who had moved into firing position with his Barrett. Kent climbed with him out of the ditch, hid behind the mound and positioned himself beside him, taking out his monocular binocular. Wayne needed an observer.

"No visibility. We're going to have to move"

Kent nodded his head and took the radio.

"Hal, how is your visibility? "

" **Pretty shitty. We're too exposed** _._ "

The deminer looked around them at the terrain deformed by the explosions and bombings, then tapped Wayne on the shoulder.

"If we crawl ten meters in that direction, we'll have enough cover and the cars won't bother us anymore. "

Wayne nodded his head and they moved on, leaving Ramon in cover.

Wayne looked into the scope of his sniper rifle. Kent looked through his pair of monoculars.

"Small building at 12 o'clock, he told his superior. "

"Seen. "

Wayne replaced his rifle and loaded a bullet into the inner tube. Kent enlarged his scope.

"One target in sight at the second floor window, two on the roof. "

"Seen. The one in the window. "

Kent plugged his nearest ear and from the other he kept his eye on the house. He knew he would hold this position for a long time. Wayne fired.

"Four meters too far to the right. "

Wayne ejected the shell casing. The shots from the other side resumed, hitting the ground several meters away.

"Stay under cover," Kent said on the radio.

" **Copy.** "

The guys across the street didn't know where they were. A real advantage for them. Wayne fired.

"Bull's-eye. "

Wayne fired again.

"Two meters too far down. "

He fired again.

"A hair too far to the left. "

He fired again.

"Touchdown. The second one runs away. "

"Seen. "

Kent could see him get shot in the head.

"Another one running away to the right. "

"Seen. "

Wayne missed once, but the second one was the right one. A shot from almost 1,000 yards away.

"Movement inside the house. "

Wayne repositioned himself.

The first three hours were bearable. The temperature must have dropped a degree and the sun was starting to go down on their backs. Kent knew it might bother Wayne, but there was nothing he could do about it. Kent would give him water every now and then until they were dry. After the juices, they had to make do with what little saliva they could produce.

Wayne fired a single shot after five hours posted there. A single shot as night fell and visibility began to weaken. Spending a night in the desert could be fatal to them. But they could not risk putting themselves in danger by leaving, nor could they call for backup.

Kent was having trouble staying awake. Keeping an eye on his monocular was becoming complicated and he knew he was less alert. It was Wayne's voice that brought him back. It was raging with drought.

"Where did you learn to speak Arabic? "

Kent frowned: it wasn't the question he had expected, but he answered.

"In the field. I took some lessons from them. "

There was silence again. Kent took the opportunity to ask a question in turn:

"Why don't you like deminers? "

Wayne remained silent. Kent held a sigh, thinking he might have had an answer. It came several minutes later.

"Brand. Our former deminer. Because he played hard-headed, Stone and I lost men. "

Kent made a little face. He knew the reputation that most bomb squads had. He also had the reputation of being a hard-headed. From his point of view, that wasn't really the case.

"I read your file. "

Kent clenched his jaw before speaking. That wasn't supposed to be the case.

"I thought only Colonel Jones had read it. "

"I'm good at getting the information I want. "

That's actually what he had heard. Now he understood why his superior didn't like him. His file contained a good pile of reports against him.

"You don't have anything to say ?" Wayne asked.

Kent barely shrugged his shoulders because his muscles were too stiff.

"What's the point, your opinion is all made up. "

He heard a faint grin in Wayne's voice when he answered:

"It's not knowing me very well. I don't trust easily and I like to make up my own mind. "

Kent let out a long sigh this time and tried to justify himself a little.

"I don't like war. I don't like killing people. The only life I risk is my own. I have nothing else to say. "

He knew he was on the defensive. Wayne didn't say anything more. That was the end of their conversation. After another three hours, they made the decision to call for backup. Another three hours later, they were finally brought back to the base.

* * *

  * _**Day 11 (10/17)**_



"Warm up, guys! "

Clark turned his head to Ollie.

"Do you really have to film us? "

"Relax! That's if we ever manage to dethrone the Flash! "

Next to him, Barry laughed.

"That will never happen, Arrow! "

They straightened up suddenly when they heard Diana's shoulders crack. This woman had quite a muscular build.

"Shut up and get into position! "

"Yeah, yeah, ma'am," Barry replied. "John! Won't you join us? "

The black man shook his head negatively.

"Sorry, I don't want to be humiliated again. "

Clark looked at Barry and Diana's confident look. Maybe he had been too boastful.

"Positions! "

The three of them crouched down.

"Ready? Go! "

They heard the cheers of other soldiers in the camp as they passed by, as fast as they could. Several times Clark had almost reached Barry. Several times he accelerated even faster, and so on. Diana had almost overtaken him too, but he had gotten her in the distance.

He crosses the finish line just behind Barry, his lungs completely empty. Queen whistled in amazement and Dinah and John applauded them.

"Wow, you're breaking records Clark! Until now, only Wonder Woman had been able to catch up with Flash! "

The trio of runners shook hands.

"It's only a rain check, Clark," said Diana, tapping his shoulder.

"Frankly, I thought you were going to outrun me! "

Clark watched the fastest printer as he tried to get his lungs back.

"I confess defeat! "

The three of them were dripping with sweat. Their shirts were completely wet and Clark could feel his plates sticking to his skin. He happily accepted the water that Arthur brought them and after drinking more than half of his bottle, he emptied the rest on his head.

"I think we could use a shower," Diana said with a smile.

"That's for sure! "

The three of them laughed and stretched to join the others.

* * *

  * _**Day 12 (10/18)**_



" **Kansas, huh? You hear that, Lantern?** _"_

Kent sighed.

" **This sucks so bad! What were you doing? Raising cows?** »

They could all hear Jordan's laughter in his voice. He took his radio:

"Not much, we had quite a few cornfields. "

" **My God Kent, I think it's worse!** "

Kent looked up to the sky but did not answer. He returned to the street watch.

" **The tank arrives with its escort.** "Wayne said in his usual cold tone.

"Copy that, we're moving again. "

He was the first scout. Equipped with his frying pan, or more exactly with his explosives detector, he advanced again in the middle of the street, covered by Jordan and Allen on either side and Wayne on the roof of a building.

He was far too exposed. Seeing the Iraqis at their window, observing him, it stressed him more than anything else. He felt as if he could see contempt and hatred on all their faces, but also deceit. He didn't want to be blown up from a distance.

" **So how did you go from being a farmer to being a bomb disposal expert?** "asked Allen.

Kent chuckled as he passed his detector.

"I grew up on a farm, I never said I made it my job. "

" **Oh, so what did you do?** " Jordan asked.

He smiled and was about to answer when his eyes fell on a teenage girl 100 meters in front of him. He raised his arm in alarm and heard the tank stop further behind him. Jordan and Allen stopped, pointing their guns at her.

" **I have a visual of her. Nothing visible in his hands.** " Jordan said.

Kent's throat tightened. The children. He couldn't bear to see children put forward in a war where they shouldn't belong. Not the children. He prayed that she would go on their way without doing anything else. Then a woman came out of a building shouting her name and pulled her by the arm to bring her inside, waving apologies to the soldier.

" **False alarm Bat.** "confirmed Allen.

Kent let out a sigh of relief and went on his way.

On the thirty meters or so that he covered afterwards, he was wound up like a Swiss cuckoo clock. His only fear was that someone would come running out of nowhere and run at them to blow themselves up. Strangely enough, human actions frightened him much more than the bombs he was clearing. He knew what to expect when faced with explosives, but you could never guess what was inside someone's head.

He stopped abruptly when the frying pan rang. Raising his hand to stop the convoy behind him, he put down the detector and searched the floor.

"I've got something. "

He squatted motionless and cleared the floor.

" **Anti-tank mine?** "Wayne asked.

Kent had the unpleasant surprise to find out that wasn't the case.

"An IED. "

He cleared the rest of the shell in front of him and spotted more wires going underground.

"There are others. "

He followed the wires and found six more shells connected together. If everything farted now, the soldiers behind them and the tank would not be spared.

" **Wayne, we're being watched a lot.** "

Kent refused to raise his head. He had much more important things to do.

" **Allen, I've got a guy with a camcorder on the roof at 10 o'clock** _._ "

" **Confirmation, Wayne. He's got the camera lens pointed right at us.** "

" **Guys, I'm not feeling it. There are too many people showing up** _._ "

He pulled the shells towards him to gather them together.

" **Kent, how long are you gonna be?** »

He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"These are small shells, but the explosive is very unstable. "

He paused, looking at the completely botched work in front of him.

"You have to step back. Safety perimeter at 50 meters. "

In the distance he heard Jordan swear in the distance, then he heard the two soldiers retreat. He was now alone in front. He knew his colleagues were covering him, but there were a lot of people.

Taking a deep breath, he took care of the base of the first shell. Not having his protective equipment in this kind of situation did not bother him. But he didn't have his radio helmet. Once his hands were caught, he could not afford to activate his radio to talk or report a problem. He should have complete confidence in his colleagues.

Concentrated on his task, he did everything he could to ignore the sound of the gunshot, followed by the sound of a collapsing body. Wayne covered him with his Barrett. He hoped that was the only shot he would hear. He knew deep down inside it wouldn't happen.

" **Contact! Contact!** "Allen shouted.

The exchange of fire that followed increased his stress. If a bullet hit the shells there would be damage and he wouldn't be there to see it. He heard Wayne's voice on the radio:

" **Kent! Fall back!** "

This time Kent didn't pay attention to who was shooting. He couldn't get his hands out of the shell he was in. He lay down, hoping to make a less easy target. He heard a burst of fire coming from two meters away from him. Between the shouts of the soldiers, the exchanges of fire and the stress of the several kilos of explosives in his hands, he knew that he had a good chance of dying.

" **Kent! Get out of the way!** "

He chained the shells. He was almost there.

" **Kent! Allen get him out of there!** "

Bursting fire was fired all around. A burst hit the ground about 30 centimeters away from him. The adrenaline kept him focused on what he was doing, and what he was doing he was doing well. He told himself that the only risk he was taking was not because of his hands. He had confidence in his hands, confidence in what he was doing. No bullet would touch the explosives. He knew that.

"Kent fuck! Get the fuck out! "

He didn't know where Allen was, but he was close enough to be within earshot. Kent shouted without raising his head:

"I can't! If I let go, it explodes! "

He was dripping like an ox on the ground. Of course he wanted to get out of there. But he had responsibilities and he was not suicidal.

"Kent, get your fucking head up! The convoy is backing up! We're falling back! "

Clark disarmed the last charge. He was finished. He straightened up just in time to see men shooting at them, then Allen waved at him while he took cover behind a concrete fence. It was the only thing he saw before a bullet hit his helmet.

He didn't really remember what happened next. He just heard Allen screaming, he was dragged and carried and later he heard the sound of a huge explosion.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

They had just come out of the infirmary. Everything was fine. Clark hadn't been hurt, but he saw remorse on his colleague's face.

"It's not your fault, Barry. "

"Are you kidding me?! Of course it was my fault! "

Clark took the blond man's head in his hands.

"Barry, you carried me out of there. You saved my life. "

Barry was overcome with remorse. He was also shocked.

"Did you see your helmet?! That bullet could have gone through your head! "

"And I'm still here! You're a hero, Barry! "

He hugged the soldier and continued:

"Thanks, man. "

"And I stink ?" Jordan asked when he arrived.

Clark smiled, then came over to give Hal a hug.

"Thanks Lantern. How are your wounds? "

Hal looked at his bandaged arms.

"Scratches, I wouldn't even have scars to brag about! "

Barry laughed.

"Neither did I! "

He smiled, asking himself a question.

"This is what happens when explosives go off. All this work for nothing. We were lucky to be out of range when they exploded. "

Barry and Hal looked at each other.

"In fact, Wayne was the one who shot it. "

Clark's blood only did a trick. He came out of the dining hall tent and went straight to the Senior Officers' quarters and found Wayne's. He pounded hard at the door, ready to fight with his superior. When the superior opened the door for him, he entered without being invited.

"I need to talk to you Wayne! "

"Me too, Sergeant. "

A little reminder of ranks. Kent didn't care much for it.

"It was you who blew up the explosives?! " He spat in an aggressive tone.

Wayne remained calm.

"I did indeed shoot it off. "

Kent was mad as hell.

"Do you realize the damage it could have caused? Damn it! You guys are so lucky we didn't get hurt more! "

"Keep your voice down, Sergeant. It was a calculated risk. If you'd listened to my orders, I wouldn't have had to act that way. "

Kent ran one hand through his hair. He could feel the bandage on his head.

"Because you think I disobeyed because it made me happy? I had my hands in shells, Wayne! "

He came dangerously close to Kent. He was almost his size, but the glacial look he had would have chilled anyone. But not Kent.

"For you it's Major, Sergeant. "

Kent clenched his fists.

"Very good, Major. I don't care what you think of me, what you think you know because you read it in a goddamn file, but I do. I. Am. Not. Suicidal. I'd leave from there and you'd have spoon-fed Allen and Jordan! "

"And you, I suppose. "

Kent let out a yellow laugh.

"No, I wouldn't have had anything to pick up. You could have killed us all by blowing up the charges. "

"You said something about a 50-meter perimeter, didn't you? I respected it. We were out of cover, everyone was pulling back. It was either that as a diversion or a shower of enemy fire. I'm sorry I screwed up your precious work. "

Wayne was a real block of ice. Kent was the complete opposite.

"Fuck you, Wayne. It's clear that behind your rifle scope, you don't risk much if it blows up. "

"I'm still your boss, Kent. "

He could hear the threat in his voice. Clark moved closer to Wayne's face.

"Why don't you report it, _Major_ ? You won't be the first. "

He then left his superior's quarters.

* * *

  * _**Day 13 (10/19)**_



Kent took a deep breath before walking through the door. He saluted as soon as he entered.

"Colonel. You sent for me? "

Jones stood up to greet him.

"Yes. I've just received a report from Major Wayne concerning you. "

Kent held back an oath. It didn't take long. Wayne must have had fun pinning it on and putting it on for the winter in his precious file. He didn't say anything, expecting to get his suspenders pulled up, to be told he was being transferred again or to be threatened with a court martial. He knew he was able to escape only because he was good at what he did and necessary to the war effort.

"Well, First Class, I must congratulate you. "

For a moment Kent thought he had imagined what he had heard. But the Colonel stood up and offered him his hand.

"Congratulations, Kent. You were remarkable in the field. Wayne is full of praise for you, and from him, that's very rare. "

"Uh, thank you Colonel. "

"Thank you. Without you we would have lost a tank and over twenty soldiers. "

Afterwards, Kent had not really paid much attention to what his superior had told him. He came out of the building, frowning. He didn't really understand what had just happened. After their fight yesterday, Wayne must have been the last one to carry him in his heart. Maybe he was wrong about him. Maybe the two of them had judged each other a little too quickly.


	3. Week 3

# Week 3

* * *

_**Day 16 (10/22)** _

"Charges are placed. It's going to blow, guys! "

The sadistic smile on Allen's face gave Kent a chill.

"You're creepy, Flash," said Lantern in his place.

Kent watched the little robot on wheels come back to them. As soon as he got to his feet, he picked it up and loaded it into the Humvee.

"The EOD robot returned. Waiting for orders! "

They heard Wayne's sigh.

"Go ahead, Allen. "

They all covered their ears. The cloud of dust turned them white a little, then Allen had his reaction:

"Wow, too classy! Not too hard your job Kent! Jerry did it all! "

"I'm sure that with EOD I won't risk much. This little mechanical arm works wonders. "

"It's Jerry now! You have to give him a little name! " rectified Allen.

Kent looked up and they put all their gear away and got back in the vehicle.

He was sitting behind Wayne, as he had done every time since they had worked together. They hadn't spoken to each other since their fight other than to talk about work. Kent had asked his co-workers to find out more about him.

From what he was able to get out of them, Wayne was a very lonely person, respected by his senior officers and the soldiers he had led. He didn't call anyone during communications clearances and took only the bare minimum of permissions. He was the kind of guy who was a career soldier with no life once he got home.

Somehow Kent felt a little sorry for him, even though their lives weren't very different. Apart from his mother and a childhood friend, he had no one and even if he had the opportunity to visit or talk to them, he remained distant. For the rest of the trip, Kent remained pensive. He wasn't sure how to behave with his superior, or what to think of him. He had to figure him out.

* * *

_**Day 20 (10/26)** _

Clark was exhausted. They had just come back from their operation and all he wanted to do was sleep. And it was barely early afternoon. Looking at the other soldiers in the camp, he was still wondering how his teammates could be in shape.

He lay down on the bench of the refectory table, unable to read the book in his hands. He simply folded his cap over his face, used his book as a headrest, and thought that a little nap wouldn't hurt him.

He relaxed. That kind of nap was the real rest he could find. A restful sleep, where there were no dreams that he could remember, where he didn't have to roll over on his mattress. He slowed down his breathing, taking advantage of the warmth of the sun. Sleep took him easily.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark leapt up when he was splashed with water and fell off his bench, to the laughter of his classmates. He got up by taking off his cap, his clothes completely soaked.

"Jesus Christ, guys! "

Ollie and Barry, in front of him, were holding a bucket and laughing their heads off. Behind them, Hal, Diana, Shay and John started laughing. John had even filmed it.

"Sorry man, it was too tempting," Oliver justified.

Clark couldn't help smiling: it was a joke he could have easily made too, or at least he would have been tempted to do so. He threw his cap in Barry's face and Barry started laughing at him again.

"I don't know how you keep so much shape," he said with a smile.

He turned around to see his bench soaking wet, just like his book, soaked in water. He made a grimace at the sight of his condition and shook it.

"Oh shit, we hadn't seen your book Clark. I'm sorry. "

Clark opened the pages, seeing the ink fading away. With the quality of the paper and the ink, that was not surprising. But it didn't matter that his book was ruined. Barry approached him.

"We're sorry, Clark. "

He could hear Barry's truly sad voice. It gave him an idea of how to get revenge.

"You're sorry, Barry?! "he said in a deliberately aggressive tone. "Do you know what this is going to cost you?! "

He threw his book on the floor and threw himself on the Flash, a more than mischievous look on his face. He pushed his colleague to the ground, trying to immobilize him.

"You'll see what it's going to cost you buddy!" Clark let go with a big smile.

He blocked Barry face down, immobilized his wrists behind his back with one hand and with the other... he tickled his buddy. Barry screamed with laughter beneath him.

"Clark stop! You're going to kill me!" Barry shouted laughing. "Ollie! Ollie, help me! "

The blond sniper laughed as he had fun filming with the group's camcorder.

"Sorry buddy, it's way too funny! "

Barry burst out laughing. Clark saw that he was losing his breath. He was going to have to change targets.

"Ollie, you're a bastard," Barry continued laughing.

"Wait, it's going to be his turn. "

And he had barely finished his sentence when he ran into Ollie, who had the reflex to try to run away. But Clark was second fastest here. He did the same to Arrow, as Barry took over the camcorder. That video would go down in history.

* * *

_**Day 22 (10/28)** _

This kind of atmosphere was rather pleasant. Much more pleasant than when they were spied on in the streets. The bazaar, although full of people and potential threats, also mixed the citizens of Baghdad, nice and remarkable people. Clark had learned a lot when he had been in the Green Zone in the middle of Baghdad. He befriended some merchants and children and became interested in their culture.

It was from them that he learned to speak Arabic, and he also asked a local imam, Hamid, to teach him to read Arabic. Before coming, Clark had some basic knowledge, and he had completed his classes with Hamid by also reading language textbooks. It was to maintain his knowledge, which he tried to practice.

As he walked through the stalls, he took the opportunity to greet the citizens and look for the book he had bought at the Green Zone. Well, maybe he shouldn't think about that in the middle of a mission, but they didn't have much to do. They just had to come by to keep an eye on the population.

So it was in the most discreet way possible that he bought his book again when he found it and slipped it into one of his pockets, graciously thanking the merchant, who had been astonished at first. But as long as he was making a sale, he was delighted.

He looked up and saw Diana waving at him. They were on a mission with Major Stone and Major Palmer's team. Stone's team and Wayne's team were in charge of going around the bazaar while Palmer's team was in charge of watching the main entrance of the bazaar and their vehicles.

" **Guys, we've got a conflict in the south building** ," said Major Palmer on the radio.

Kent could hear his chief respond:

" **We'll be there in 5 minutes.** »

He waited to receive Wayne's direct order when Palmer replied:

" **Useless, it seems to be a domestic matter. We'll take care of it.** »

" **Copy, Palmer. We'll finish the round and get back to you.** " replied Major Stone.

Kent then resumed his march, this time resuming his mission with more concentration. As a reflex, he grabbed his M4 more firmly and continued to advance, maintaining his walking rhythm. Within fifteen minutes or so, they would be in the position of Palmer and his team.

They gathered at the entrance of the bazaar. They were barely gathered when they heard gunshots at the end of the adjacent street. Immediately, they were all in position, moving toward the noise:

" **Palmer, we heard gunshots, where are you?** "said Stone on the radio.

It took some time for the response to come as the soldiers formed up, moving to the end of the street, lying in wait.

" **We're in the building, we heard them too. We intervened on a rape. We neutralized the father and the son.** "

Kent clenched his jaw. These crimes were perhaps the worst for him. He didn't understand how you could do that to someone.

" **Copy. We're heading towards the gunshots.** " Wayne replied.

" **Copy, guys. We'll finish up here and get to the vehicles.** "

They were coming to the end of the street. There was no one there. Stone, who obviously spoke Arabic as well, called to see if anyone needed help. But no one answered. No one showed up.

"It's too quiet," Jordan said. "I don't like it. "

Kent felt the same way.

"Neither do I. "

He and Jordan glanced around the buildings around them. Usually we'd look at them when they called. Wayne picked up his radio next to him:

"Palmer, we've got nothing. We're going back to the vehicles. "

" **Copy, we got nothing too. The authorities will pick them up.** "

They all turned back, almost even more cautious than on the outward journey. They picked up Palmer and his team on the way. When they returned to the Humvees, heads had come out of the buildings.

"Damn, this story stinks. "

Everyone turned their heads to Queen. It was unusual. Unusual enough to alert them.

"What do we do?" Palmer asked. "Shall we go away or take another ride? "

Stone and Wayne looked at each other. Kent realized they suspected something.

"They looked suspicious, your rapists? "

Palmer turned to the members of his team. They all nodded their heads.

"A father who wanted to teach his son how to be a man. The daughter's terror was real. So were the mother's defensive wounds. "

Wayne looked up at the buildings. They were too much to watch. He then saw the Iraqis' vehicle and by reflex, all the American soldiers aimed at them. Palmer walked towards them, also speaking in Arabic to show them the building and the apartment. Stone joined him for a moment to speak with the policemen. When they returned to them, the cops were in the process of loading the others into their vehicle.

"They don't have any reported incidents in the area, except for the one I did," Palmer said.

"The shooting was a diversion, " Stone confirmed to Wayne.

Wayne turned to Kent. He didn't have to say anything more because he had followed his thought process. He headed for the Humvees while Wayne ordered from behind:

"Form a security perimeter around the vehicles. "

Kent ducked. He inspected the undercarriage for explosives and then looked around the car, around the hood and then lifted it up to check for anything. The other area was the interior of the vehicle. He carefully examined the door before opening it, then the seats and steering wheel.

"Clear. "

He did the same for the second vehicle. But he had already made a grimace when he came out from underneath, but he continued his inspection.

"Clear. But the Humvee won't go far. The fuel line has been sabotaged. It's leaking fairly slowly. "

By reflex, Hol, Lance and Curry lowered their heads to see a darker spot under the vehicle. Kent then moved to the last vehicle. He barely had to put his head underneath.

"Explosives under the frame. "

He checked the rest of the vehicle to make sure there was no second device. There was not.

"They must have only had time to place one bomb," Stone said.

Wayne nodded his head as Kent went back underneath the vehicle. OK. It certainly wasn't an amateur job. And just having that device in front of him...he was both impressed and panicked.

"Kent? How's it look? "

He was looking at the bomb in front of him. Unbelievable. The device was so complex that he hadn't yet figured out what to do.

"Homemade explosive device. Quite complex. "

He got out and went back into his Humvee, the one that was about to run out of gas. He retrieved a headlamp from the equipment boxes. He already had his little kit of equipment, which never left him. He removed his M4 and Wayne retrieved it by removing his own M4, just as Queen and Stewart did: they retrieved their sniper rifles. Kent slid under the vehicle.

"Kent, we're pretty exposed here. If we take cover, we won't be able to cover you. "

They were still examining the bomb.

"It's a pretty complex device. There's a box that prevents me from visualizing the device. Extend the security perimeter to 50 meters. "

Kent took a small screwdriver out of his kit. It was really well organized. And that was something that was stressing him out even more, it brought back too many bad memories. He took off his helmet and slid it over his head to wipe his forehead. Good. The box was right in front of his head. No visible wires, no visible pressure devices... He reoriented the lamp next to him.

"I think you'll have to go further. "

"What kind of device is that?" Palmer asked.

Kent made a grimace, even though no one could see it.

"I don't know. "

There was a time of silence. He heard someone sighing loudly.

"We can't move from here, Kent. We're going to have to stay close to the Humvees. We'll cover you if we have to. "

Kent didn't know where Wayne was, but it sounded like his voice was coming from behind him, from behind the Humvee. He heard them coming out of the crates of the other vehicles, probably to position the sniper rifles stably. They probably had to be watching in all directions. He heard the same other sigh as he began to unscrew the case.

He did it so delicately that it took time. A lot of time. He heard the same annoyed sigh and then :

"Are you sure he's competent, your boy?" Palmer asked, probably to his team.

His voice was right next door. But no one answered. Kent remarked that it was more than voluntary, but he didn't know if it meant a good thing or not. He didn't care. For now, he had to focus on what was in front of him.

He removed the last screw and gently received the cover. He had just enough time to place it next to him before turning his attention to the inside. He then saw an indicator light activate, then a red laser light up, aimed at his head. Clark froze, panic overwhelming him in one fell swoop. His heart quickened as sweat ran down his face. He was going to die. He was going to explode.

"Shit... "

His voice was so shaky that he didn't recognize it.

"What's going on?" Wayne asked.

Kent was unable to think. He was staring at that laser and the little light next to it. For the first time in his life, he was convinced he was going to die. He didn't feel that adrenaline rush, that stress that made him so far-sighted when he had to clear explosives. Now he was afraid. More than fear, he was terrified. He had only seen this device once before in his life.

"Kent? "

He felt a tear running down his eye. He tried to muster the courage to respond.

"I...I need you to leave. "

Everyone could hear his anguish in his voice. Kent was unable to hide it. He was a soldier. He was a bomb disposal expert. He was supposed to deal with those kinds of emotions. But now he was afraid to die. More than ever. And the way it was going to happen... everyone else was in danger.

"Kent, what is it?" Wayne asked again.

Kent was thinking fast as old memories came flooding back. He never thought he'd come across such a device again. He never thought he would. He knew how it would turn out. He had seen it. He'd lived it.

"I... I couldn't... I couldn't defuse it... "

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing.

"Very well. You get out of there and we're going to a safer place to leave. "

Kent paused moving around before reopening his eyes, feeling calmer.

"You have to siphon the essence out of this Humvee. The hose from the vehicle next door is just punctured. Just put tape on the hose, you do a transfer, and you can drive off with two vehicles together. "

"Wayne, is your guy tripping or what?" Palmer said in an aggressive tone.

The deminer couldn't turn his head. But he heard someone get down on his knees.

"Okay. "

That was Wayne's only reaction when he saw the laser pointed at Kent's face. He straightened up:

"Kent has a laser sensor pointed at him. If he moves his head, the bomb goes off. "

"That's even possible ?" Palmer asked.

"I heard about it a few years ago," Stone said. "It prevents the bomb from being defused by trapping the deminer. "

He heard someone kneeling on the other side of the Humvee.

"Hey, Kent. It's gonna be okay, all right? We're not gonna leave you. "

Allen's voice was meant to be reassuring. Kent swallows with difficulty. He was really tempted to turn his head towards Flash.

"Go away. "

He heard more movement on the same side, then Queen's soft voice:

"Hey, buddy. Are you sure there's nothing you can do? "

"I'll deal with it when you're out of danger. "

The laser pointer began to hurt his eyes. Clark closed his eyelids and calmed his breathing again as he felt his anguish surface. Then he heard Stone say:

"We're going to do what Kent says. Curry, you get the gas, Prince, you get the tape. "

"Hol, Lance, you're going to help them. "

Kent allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. Until he heard Wayne say:

"Jordan, Allen, stand here and here. When the vehicles leave, we'll be even more out in the open. "

"Wayne... you should... "

The Major leaned back towards him because he heard his voice better:

"Kent, you're going to do what you can to defuse this thing. You can say what you want, but we're not leaving without you. "

Kent was about to shake his head as a reflex when, opening his eyes, the red pointer called him to order in time. Staying still was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

"Wayne, you don't understand... I've been in front of this kind of bomb before. I couldn't defuse it... "

"It's not exactly the same, Kent. "

Anxiety gripped Kent's heart. He wished it had. Truly. But what he was looking at... It was certain that the maker was the same. He had stumbled upon the same bomber. Kent preferred not to answer. Instead, he focused on the bomb in front of him.

He paid a little attention to Stone, who seemed to be contacting their HQ by radio. He was vaguely aware of the movement around him. He had to concentrate on his bomb. He knew that if he was focused, he was more likely to stay still. Being like that was always an asset to a bomb disposal expert.

All the wires were black. He spotted the explosive charges, a homemade compound of several products that could make the explosive unstable; and the shrapnel. Placed in glass containers, the pieces that were supposed to do damage were more than visible.

Slowly, he moved his arms towards the bomb. Anyway, the sensor aimed at his head. As long as he kept it pressed against the ground... Nothing should normally happen. But when his fingers were right in front of it... he hesitated for a moment. He had already seen it all before. He knew what was useless to do. If he really wanted to try to get out of it, he had to remember what he had done last time.

"Major! There's movement on the rooftops," Hol shouted.

The stress in Hol's voice was enough to make his anxiety rise again. He lowered his arms and closed his eyes again, trying to calm his breathing. Calm. He had to stay calm. He would have the upper hand on this bomb. He had already lost once to that bomb maker, he wasn't going to lose a second time and lose his life.

He opened his eyes again and groped beside him to retrieve the screwdriver. With the shank, he had to at least free what was used as shrapnel. It would serve as evidence and he could give it to the other groups so as not to risk destroying them.

Gently, he tried to dislodge the first container. He couldn't help but notice how sophisticated the device was: everything fit in a box that could be easily attached to the car and everything inside was in its place. At first glance, it reminded him of someone playing Tetris with the components of a bomb.

He dislodged the first glass cylinder and gently placed it next to him. He was relieved to see that the absence of the object did not trigger anything in the bomb, or even in its organization. But it was the simplest cylinder. The second was more difficult to reach and other components were attached to it.

Kent reflects. The bomb was in the grip of gravity. If he dislodged another component and fell or passed in front of the laser, the whole thing would blow up. He had to be careful. So he grabbed his insulation tape from his kit and cutters. Ok. Cutting tape with this was going to be complicated and he was going to ruin his pliers, but he had no other choice.

Spreading pieces of tape in strategic places, he made sure everything would stay in place.

"We're good! We didn't take all the gas out of this one but it should be enough for both vehicles. We're counting on you to stay alive," said Stone.

"All right, we'll keep you posted. We'll call for backup when we're sure the bomb is defused," Wayne replied.

There was a period of silence.

"I hope that will be the case for you," Palmer added. "All aboard, guys! "

And when Kent heard the word, he shouted:

"Wait! "

Wayne bent down again. Kent couldn't see him, but he grabbed the first container of shrapnel and tried to roll it in his direction, not knowing if he was aiming right or wrong.

"What in God's name...What the hell is that?! "

Kent knew the reception was good. It was the first time he had ever heard Wayne show disgust.

"Human teeth. This sicko uses them for shrapnel. "

He dislodged the second cylinder and sent it in the same direction.

"That'll be one less damage... And if it helps to learn more about this bomber... "

His Major did not answer and left, visibly giving the objects to Stone, who swore when he saw what it was. Then the doors slammed.

Kent then dislodged the wires. Black. They were absolutely all the same color and there were no identifiable signs. So he had to rely on what he knew and trace the path of each wire to deduce its function. Only, the wires were going somewhere else and he could not move the bomb or move his head. It was going to be difficult.

He heard the engines start as he gently walked up one of the wires. That one would be the easiest to cut: there was always the last charge whose wire would not mix well with the others. He grabbed his pliers again, made sure it was the right wire and-

The burst of gunfire that followed completely froze him. His heart was beating fast and his breathing panicked as he heard his comrades shouting and firing back.

"On the rooftops! On the rooftops," Allen shouted.

He heard the car doors open again and the Barrett's louder and unique shots. Kent closed his eyes. The situation was horrible. He would have given everything he had to get out of it!

"The windows! Building at 10 o'clock ! "shouted Curry.

Kent was sweating like never before. He was shaking, he knew it, and he was trying to do everything he could to calm himself down. But between the screams of his comrades, the detonations, the bomb... ans this damn bomb that trapped him under a vehicle, it was impossible !

"Grenades ! " Palmer shouted.

Kent kept his eyes closed, putting his hands over his ears to protect himself from the detonations of the grenades, which made his ears whistle. He received projections on his legs, followed by bursts of machine gun fire. He forced himself to remove his hands to remain attentive and focus his attention on the bomb. If he got out of there... they might not even be able to escape.

"There are too many of them," cried Lance. "Watch out for 14-"

The woman was violently interrupted in what she was saying.

"Dinah ! "shouted Queen. "Lance is hit! "

But he could not hear the woman. Kent grabbed his pliers and cut the wire he had planned all along. Nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief as he now had to search for the other wires. He focused on one and searched for his path, trying to visualize in his head what he couldn't see.

"Grenade! "

The burst of explosions that followed made him close his eyes again as he prohibited his body from moving. He imagined himself in the wheat fields of his farm, a secluded and peaceful place, far from the bombs and screams. Enjoying the warmth of the sun, the singing of birds and crickets, having fun in the land...

Hol's screams were heard and he tried to keep his childhood memories in mind to stay calm. The shooting resumed. He opened his eyes again and continued: he was not supposed to touch that wire. He retrieved a piece of tape and attached it to the wire so that he could locate it. He moved on to the next one and did the same procedure again. But this one was more complex.

He tried to ignore the sounds of a body being dragged on the ground and Shay's complaints that followed. But if Shay's voice was heard, she was still alive.

"Stay clear of the vehicles," Wayne shouted.

Kent couldn't see what was going on outside, but something must have happened. He heard the impact of the bullets on his Humvee. The next moment, the pain he felt was so intense that he grabbed onto the chassis of the vehicle. He couldn't hold his scream back, while the intense burn he felt on his leg brought tears to his face.

"Kent ! Kent ! " cried Allen.

"Kent is hit!" shouted Jordan further away.

Kent's eyesight was so blurry that he closed his eyes as his trembling resumed. He had to move. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to move, get out of there!

As a reflex, he moved his legs and bent his unharmed one. The other one hurt him so much that he didn't even dare to move it. He had to move. He had to go. His head was spinning even though he had closed his eyes. It was the same kind of feeling as when one is drunk and closes one's eyes: that feeling of falling into the dark.

"Kent. Try to breathe. "

Wayne's authoritative but calm voice made him open his eyes again. He would have wanted to turn his head to see his face, but instead he had to stare at the damn bomb. And he realized that his breathing was totally anarchic.

"We need you to calm down. Reinforcements won't come to us if there's a risk of explosion. "

He took a deep breath, trying to get into a rhythm where he slowed down his exhalations and inspirations. His leg was hurting, his body was numb from not being able to move and his concentration was as fragile as a house of cards.

He tried to disregard the machine-gun fire around him, the sound of the impact of the bullets, the dust and sand that sometimes came against his face. He heard Palmer shouting that he was throwing smoke and he vaguely heard his comrades repositioning themselves around him.

"Kent, you have to defuse this bomb. We have nothing left to lose: we will all die if you do nothing. "

Wayne really kept a calm tone. He was talking, so Kent figured he had to be right next to the Humvee. A shot from his Barrett confirmed that was the case. Kent opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He preferred not to speak. If he spoke, he would lose his temper. He would lose what little control he had over his emotions.

He focused on those wires. He had to. He had to focus on those black wires that would determine the future for all of them. He picked up the wire he was examining and tried to guess his path, his function. How had his creator managed not to confuse the wires? What had been his means?

He couldn't help but admire the ingenuity of the device. That's how it was. Even in this situation, he could not help thinking that the design of this bomb was remarkable. He couldn't do a better job.

His heart missed a beat when he heard Wayne's sniper rifle fire, above all other sounds of gunfire. He must really have been next door.

"I'm sorry Kent. We can't take care of your leg without risking another life. "

Kent didn't answer the Major. He was aware of that. He could feel the blood staining the tissue, sticking to the skin, that pulsating sensation right at the level of his wound, as if his heart was beating in his leg.

The shooting stopped suddenly. Going from deafening noises to silence made a strange impression on Kent, as if he went deaf for a moment.

"I think we got them," Prince said.

There were a few seconds of silence before Queen said:

"I've got no one in my sights anymore. "

"Me neither," Wayne confirmed.

"Same here. Let's stay on the lookout," Stone said.

Kent wrapped the adhesive wire he was following around and took two turns to find his way around: he wasn't sure what it was for, so he wasn't sure whether to cut it or not. He moved on to the next one. He was sweating. He was sweating a lot. His sweaty hands slipped on the wires and he lowered his arms, wiping his palms on his uniform. He would have wiped his forehead, but... he was careful wiping his eyes.

He was hot. So hot. He was sweating so much that it was unpleasant. He was starting to get a headache. He forced himself to raise his hands again to take care of the wire. He didn't need to cut it. At least, he thought he didn't have to. Well, he wasn't sure. If he did...

"Kent, it's going to be okay ? " Wayne asked calmly.

The caller glued the ribbon to the wire he was taking care of but didn't answer. He had to keep his concentration... He closed his eyes for a moment, maybe too long. He began to feel dizzy.

"Kent? "

He fluttered his eyes. Maybe he had lost too much blood. Too bad we couldn't put adhesive on his leg too. Or bandage it. That should have been it, with the miracle powder that stopped the bleeding... He had a rather silly smile on his face as he felt he was slowly going somewhere else.

"Allen, check on Kent. We got your back. "

Apparently, Allen didn't seem very far because he could barely hear two steps on the sand and then the sound of his voice, on the other side of Wayne. One was on the left and the second on the right.

"Major, he doesn't look good at all. "

"Kent, try to talk. "

Kent had his eyes on the bomb. He had a smile on his face.

"I should have had several colored adhesive tapes... "

There was a time of silence and he held out his arms towards the bomb. His arms were really heavy now. Almost numb. Nah, it was actually cramps.

"I think he's going off the rails," Allen commented.

Kent almost shook his head negatively before he remembered in time to hold still.

"Nah... colors are for wires.

There was silence again as he resumed his work. He was thinking so slowly... It was ridiculous. To think that he could usually find his way through all the threads much more easily... Plus this one was neat. It was stupid.

"What color are the wires on the bomb, Kent? "

It took him quite a long time to answer.

"Black. All black. This guy's awesome. "

He dropped his arms. Kent realized, as if his mind was backwards, how wrong he was. He no longer felt any stress, or pain. Just fatigue. The fact that he realized it gave him enough clarity to tell him.

"Wayne... I think I'm going to let go... "

He closed his eyes for a short moment, then forced himself to open them again, fluttering his eyelids. If he lost consciousness, or balance, his head would tilt and the laser sensor would trigger the bomb as he moved. He had to force himself to hold on.

"Major, he would lose consciousness. Hey, Kent, Kent, can you hear me? "

He raised his thumb to Allen's side and heard Wayne scream:

"Curry! Send me the light bulbs! Hol won't need them. "

Allen resumed:

"Hey, buddy. You're doing great, okay? I've never seen a guy as ballsy as you, but you've got to hold on to get us all out of here, okay? "

Kent's having a hard time swallowing. When did his throat get so dry?

"I don't feel good... "

He could hear movement next door, but at least the shooting did not resume.

"Hang in there a little longer, Clark. Where are you at with the bomb? "

He blinked several times to get a good look at the bomb.

"I think... two wires. Ah, no... three wires. "

He heard Wayne move.

"All right, Kent. You're going to extend your left arm towards me. It's going to sting a little. "

Kent did what his boss asked. His arm was so heavy...

"Okay, this is going to sting. "

He actually felt the sting in his arm, before feeling the effects a few seconds later. It was like taking a bucket of water on his head. Suddenly he felt much more responsive and awake.

"Kent, backup is three blocks behind. They'll arrive as soon as you defuse the damn bomb. Make it quick. Get us out of here. "

He blinked as he felt as if windows had just been opened in his head and his heart quickened.

"At your orders. "

Kent knew he had little time before the adrenaline kicked in.

Three wires. The wire he had begun to take care of was definitely not to be cut. He checked anyway, before moving on to the next one. This one too, it was complicated to determine its function. Kent grabbed his tape and did two turns. As for the last wire... it was clear that he had to cut it. In fact, it was common for the first wire on a bomb to have to be cut. He breathed a sigh of relief when he cut it.

He thought it was over. That the bomb was neutralized. But the laser sensor was still active. There was always the risk that it would go off. He lost his smile as the adrenaline gave way to panic and stress. A big increase in stress. His heart raced as sweat ran down from his forehead.

Ok, ok, ok. He had to go around again. That one, he wasn't sure, that one, he wasn't supposed to cut it... That one, he wasn't sure... That one... No, he wasn't sure, finally, he wasn't supposed to cut it. So after elimination, he was left with two wires whose function he couldn't determine.

"Clark ? What's going on?" asked Allen, who must have seen his panic.

"I have two wires left. I don't know which one to cut. "

His breathing started to quicken again. He wasn't feeling well at all. The pain in his leg wasn't helping. The Major spoke:

"Make a choice on instinct, Kent. "

Wayne wasn't very calm this time.

"If I do this, we could all die! "

"Kent, if you don't do something, our enemies' reinforcements will come and we'll all die. "

Kent breathed out slowly, his stomach tightening so tight it was cramping. He was nauseous. He didn't want people to die again because of him.

"Kent, there's movement around us so make it quick. "

He was stressing him even more than at first. That was a crucial choice. Life or death. Wire 1, or wire 2. Black or Black. His choice would be death, or people saved. Dying from an explosion, or riddled with bullets. 1 or 2. 1 or 2. 1, or 2. 1... or 2. 1... or 2.

He cut the first wire he had on hand. After two long seconds, the sensor turned off.

"He did it !" Allen shouted.

The next moment, Kent was being pulled by the legs. His first reflex was to tip over to his side and empty all the contents of his stomach. He was barely allowed to finish.

"Let's move! Extraction point at 300 meters South-East! "

He didn't even know who had spoken. He felt so bad that we carried him, because he was unable to stand. Clark was half conscious along the way. He didn't understand the orders, he didn't see the reinforcements. He fell unconscious a few minutes later.


	4. Week 4

# Week 4

* * *

_**Day 23 (10/29)** _

Clark woke up with difficulty. If he hadn't been so thirsty, he would have waited a little longer to get out of sleep. But the call of the water was too strong, to soften his throat and drive away the horrible taste on his tongue.

He was in a military hospital room and no longer had his uniform on him. He vaguely remembered why he was here. He lifted up the sheet and happily saw that his leg was still there, just bandaged at the thigh, and his toes could move without any problem.

He rocked on the back of his pillow and sighed with relief. It was the right electric wire. Of course it was. Otherwise it wouldn't be there. Clark laughed, euphoric that he had survived and managed to clear the damn bomb. He didn't really believe it. He burst out laughing, a nervous laugh, but a liberating laugh.

He must have made too much noise because a nurse came in.

"Sergeant Kent, you seem to be recovering very well! How are you doing? "

A pretty brunette. He stopped laughing, but kept his smile on.

"Well, pretty good I think. I can't complain too much. Where am I? "

The nurse gave him a complete check-up before answering.

"You are in the Green Zone. You arrived yesterday with your unit. "

He should have known he was in the Green Zone. The only hospital where the soldiers in Baghdad were sent.

"My unit? Are they okay? "

The nurse smiled.

"I'll let your brothers in arms tell you more. Don't you want to know about your leg? "

Clark was confused. His leg.

"Uh, go ahead. "

"Well, the bullet went right through your thigh, bypassing the femoral artery. You were very lucky, the wound is very clean. You will recover very quickly. "

He breathed a sigh of relief. No need to be repatriated.

"How long will it take me to get out? "

"If you follow your treatment well and rest well... within five days. "

That was definitely good news. He hated hospitals. The nurse continued to check on him and then walked to the door.

"You're the only one we're talking about here, Sergeant. Soldiers would like to see you. Shall I let them in? "

Clark frowned before nodding. He made a nasty face when he realized that his neck was so stiff that moving around hurt.

The nurse left the room. The next moment, Wayne walked through the door, alone.

"Major? "

Wayne greeted him. He was so surprised that he did it first that he hesitantly saluted him back.

"Sergeant Kent. I wanted to see you first to thank you on behalf of all of us, and to congratulate you on your incredible behavior in the field. "

Kent was so surprised by his officer that he turned red.

"Uh... thank you... I just did my duty... " He remembered his thoughts, his behavior. "Not in the most heroic way," he said with a small laugh.

Wayne addressed a slight grin. Kent thought it almost sounded like a smile.

"You don't understand how remarkable your behavior was. Anyone in your situation would have cracked. Even more so if they were injured. "

Kent allowed himself to smile, accepting that fact. He realized that Wayne's intonation wasn't so cold anymore.. He must have made an effort to talk to him the night before to calm him down and reassure him. It had helped him.

"I couldn't have done it without you. I didn't do it alone. Besides, it's my job. "

This time Wayne's grin widened a little bit more, and it looked like half a smile. Kent continued:

"How are the others? "

The smile vanished into thin air, to return to a neutral face.

"Lance died and Hol was seriously injured. He repatriated her. We're all here with a few scratches at the moment. "

Kent nodded his head, staring at Wayne's ice-blue eyes. He was pained. He didn't show it, but he was. And Kent shared his grief. Wayne continued:

"What happened... it wasn't something trivial. Other soldiers came right afterwards to get the Humvees back and make sure that no equipment had been stolen. They recovered the bomb. They're waiting for the expertise of a bomb disposal expert. "

Wayne paused briefly as Kent recalled the device so ingenious and deadly. He was already imagining himself examining it when Wayne resumed:

"Some of the brass will be coming by. They'll give you a whole speech of congratulations, talk about accomplishment of duty, rewards, end of service, ... "

Kent cut it off:

"What about the bomb? Who's going to take care of it? "

"For now, no one. They don't have competent bomb squad personnel on hand. "

Oh. Kent saw the maneuver. First tell him about the bomb, then the rewards. If Wayne had read his file, he must have sensed that he was struggling with authority and bureaucrats. He smiled slightly.

"You're quite a manipulator, Wayne. "

Wayne smiled his little half-smile.

"I like to think I'm pretty subtle. Are you going to stay? "

Kent nodded his head very slightly because of his muscle pain.

"My shift isn't over yet. And I want to get my hands on that psycho asshole. Did you keep the teeth? "

Wayne nodded.

"They've been sent to the country for analysis. Colonel Jones has already authorized us to work on this bomber. When you've recovered, we'll head back to our base. "

Kent smiled broadly as he thought he would be able to examine this bomb thoroughly. Wayne returned to his neutral face.

"You'll have some things to tell me, Kent. "

Clark knew it. As Wayne turned around, he stopped for a second and didn't really look back:

"Thank you. "

The door opened at that moment, visibly on a General and other officers. Wayne saluted at the same time as Kent. They exchanged a last glance at each other before the Major went through the door. Kent thought back to what Wayne had just said to him: from a guy like him, it was worth all the talk in the world.

* * *

_**Day 26 (11/01)** _

Today was the Day of the Dead. Clark had a thought for all his comrades who had left him, for his father, for Dinah whom he had barely known. Today, her family might be burying him at home. Repatriated along with Shayera and other soldiers, her comrades had not been able to gather themselves from her.

They had all remained in the Green Zone. Apparently, their superiors wanted to make sure that what they had experienced had not left any psychological scars, and since they were all there, his unit was housed there. Clark even had the right to a home consultation. The psychotherapist officer came by on the day he woke up, the next day and even in the morning.

Clark couldn't deny that this kind of session was useful for the soldiers. Maybe even useful for him, but he didn't feel the direct effects every time, but he knew that for some of his colleagues it was. He hoped it would help Arthur, and also Oliver. He had learned from Hal that Dinah had died in Arthur's arms, and Oliver had confided in him about his feelings for her when he had come to visit him.

It had been heartbreaking for him to hear about it and, even though he and Oliver hadn't been brothers in arms for very long, the sniper had needed to confide in someone other than a psychotherapist and a close friend. Clark could understand this need. It was easier to confide in someone you didn't know personally, but also to confide in someone who wouldn't do the analysis behind it. Just an ear or an outside point of view.

Since he had been awake, his unit and others had come to see him. Barry and Hal had been the first, along with Wayne and the bulk of the military brass to come. Coming, to see how he was doing, but also to thank him. In fact, it surprised him. He was the one who wanted to thank them. Thank them for wanting to stay from the beginning, for supporting and protecting him. But obviously his behaviour was considered heroic.

Clark still didn't see it that way. That's why he had sent his top brass to the roses in a subtle way. It was his job to make sure no one died from a bomb. He didn't deserve any credit for putting his teammates in danger. That was his point of view. No one had listened to him, as he suspected, but he had also done it for himself.

The day before, Hal had told him that he was the talk of the camp. About the deminer who managed to defuse a bomb when he was shot. He was the guy with the "nerves of steel". The truth was quite different, but the story had spread even faster than a powder keg. Even the nurses were talking about it.

Clark let out a deep sigh at the thought. He hated being talked about that way. He didn't like being the subject of conversation and he didn't like the attention paid to what he was doing or had done. All he wanted to do was get back on the field quickly.

* * *

_**Day 28 (11/03)** _

Kent breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the Humvee. It was the first time he was so thrilled to be back at his base. His leg still hurt from time to time, but he could walk and was advised to wait before running again. He was so relieved that his muscles weren't too badly damaged, as were his nerves. Otherwise, he would have been good at changing careers. But, for the moment, he wasn't allowed back on the field yet. But he could make himself useful in another way.

He followed Wayne into Colonel Jones' office. The latter was waiting for them on foot, a first report open on his desk. Kent and Wayne greeted him until the Colonel greeted them. He went straight to the point.

"I have had long discussions about you, Sergeant. With General Taylor, with your base scrappers and your trainers. You're a strange bird. I don't know what you told them, but I am delighted to have an element like you under my command. However, you should know that if you do something like this again, you won't be able to escape from them. America needs heroes to decorate. They won't be denied a second time. "

The Colonel reached out his hand to congratulate him, obviously. Kent squeezed it. He knew his superior was right. There were fewer and fewer young people signing up to join the army. The decorations, the prestige, the recognition, it was an incentive to join. It embellished the war. Because there was nothing joyful, fantastic, incredible about the war. Jones continued:

"I understand that this is not the first time you have faced this kind of bomb. Teeth, right? Hm. I contacted your old handler in Samarra. He sent me a copy of the reports on the similar incident. Make sure more of our guys know what to do if they come across it. "

Kent nodded. That's what he was going to do.

"Aye, sir. "

Jones gave him the reports in question. Kent knew that in one of the copies was his own.

"The teeth were sent to us for analysis. The rest is available here. Don't make this personal, Kent. Just make sure you study how it works. "

Kent didn't answer anything. It had been personal for a long time. Jones knew what he was saying was in the wind, but he had done it for the sake of it. He dismissed him and apparently stayed to talk one-on-one with Wayne. Kent had a vague idea of the subject, but somehow he knew Wayne would be on his side.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent closed his boss' report and closed his eyes for a few moments. Now it was so fresh in his memory that he was still sick to his stomach. The photos were there too. He wouldn't have thought that he'd been photographed in the hospital. He should have known. All he had done at the time was give his statement. He didn't follow the investigation. There was always an investigation after the death of a soldier, he should have known that there were photos.

He reopened his eyes, raised his head and jumped. In front of him, Wayne was staring at him with his icy eyes. He hadn't even heard him arrive at the table he'd been set up to work on the device, under a tent.

"Tell me about it. "

Somehow Kent suspected that his boss knew the story. He had had plenty of time to find out while he was in bed. He sighed, handing him the file.

"I was a bomb-disposal officer in Samarra two years ago. My unit was called in as reinforcements. A bomb had been found outside a Shiite shrine. The first deminer called to the scene, Sergeant Raymond, was trapped by the laser. The second deminer, Stein, called for backup. Same device, same shrapnel. Raymond was panicked. Stein could see that he would not make it. Unlike him, I was very lucky because I was lying down. Raymond, he... He was standing, his head down on the bomb. I can't imagine how painful it must have been. Stein saw that he was going to move. We had to abandon him. We ran as fast as we could. "

He paused for a short while.

"It's impossible to really run in the full protective suit. It doesn't provide that much protection when you're in the blast radius. Stein didn't survive the blast. I was repatriated. "

Wayne had the file in front of him. The photos too.

"I'm starting to get a better sense of you. Why do you think he used teeth? "

Kent shrugged.

"No idea. Maybe because the guy's a big sicko. But technically... Well, the teeth are resistant to the explosion. They're much more resistant than we think, and with the roots, that makes them dangerous projectiles. I think they may be less visible on some types of medical images, but that shouldn't be the reason. Maybe it's just his trademark. "

There was a moment of silence. Wayne seemed to assimilate the information and process it in the corner of his head.

"Did you get any? "

Kent displayed a grimace mixed with a smile. He got up from his bench and took off his T-shirt. He knew that this was not normally an appropriate response to a superior, but he did it anyway. Pictures were better than words. He turned his back and showed him his scars.

Mostly star-shaped and of varying sizes, they strewn across part of his back, from the tip of his left shoulder blade to his left hip, and descended below the line of his uniform pants. He also had a few on his left deltoid. He pointed out specific scars to Wayne.

"Those are teeth they took out of me. The rest are debris from the bomb. I should have died with Stein and Raymond that day. Instead, I was the black sheep of the group who was blamed for the death of their brothers. "

Kent put his uniform shirt back on. Even he blamed himself for Stein's death. If he hadn't insisted on staying longer to defuse the bomb... Stein would have had time to flee further. He might have survived.

He clenched his jaw, feeling again the guilt that he had had a hard time getting rid of. He rubbed his eyes: he needed a change of air, to think about something else. He turned to Wayne.

"I'll leave you to the reading, I'm going to get some air. I'll take a look at the bomb later. "

He walked out of the tent with his sunglasses on and fell on his group and Stone's men. No doubt they had heard his story. Their faces showed a look of sorrow or guilt on their faces. He didn't stop at that. He walked into the camp, determined to be alone for a while.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The sky was beautiful. Without the city lights, the stars were much more visible, as were the shades of color of the night. Clark recognized these constellations. He could easily spot the Great Square of Pegasus, a landmark he often used and which now allowed him to locate the axis of Aquarius or the head of Capricorn. He could easily name the stars that made up each point.

Clark remembered the hours he had spent observing the sky with his father. Learning from him the names of the constellations, the landmarks, the stars,... Jonathan Kent had given him his first telescope when he was 10 years old, as well as some manuals and books on constellations. At the age of 13, it was Clark, who gave lessons to his father. His father had always been proud of him.

It was always in those moments that he missed him. Kent hoped that somehow his father would still be proud of him, even though he had joined the army. He knew his mother was proud of him and that meant a lot to him. It mattered to him that at least one person in this world appreciated him for who he was, and also for what he did.

Then he saw a cloud of smoke blocking his view of the sky, followed by the smell of tobacco. He turned his head towards the intruder next to him. Wayne had sat three feet away from him and also had his eyes on the horizon. He was pulling at his cigarette quietly, without visibly paying attention to it. Kent hadn't heard him coming, let alone seen him.

They remained silent, willfully ignoring each other, until Wayne lit a second cigarette. Kent then broke the silence.

"How long have you been smoking? "

Wayne pulled out his cigarette and answered:

"A few years. "

"I've never seen you smoke before. "

There was silence again. Neither of them looked away from the sky.

"I had run out of cigarettes, I hadn't had time to fill up. "

And then Kent remarked that he hadn't observed the man much either. He was always out of the way in the camp and so quiet that he could hardly see him.

"How are you holding up ?" Wayne asked.

Kent was surprised by the question. Totally surprised. He nodded his head on reflex.

"Yeah. It's just... sometimes it's harder to live with. "

"I understand. "

Kent turned his head to his boss. There was a certain charisma that came from Wayne.

"Have you lost many soldiers ?" Kent asked, hesitant.

Wayne shot his cigarette and turned his head towards him.

"Yes, brothers in arms, friends, leaders. We're at war. "

There was something indescribable on his face. Wayne was an intriguing person.

"Why did you enlist? "

Wayne crushed his cigarette butt on the ground, put it back in his pack and took out another cigarette and lit it. Either this guy was really craving nicotine or he smoked like a fireman. Wayne took a big puff and resumed smoking:

"My parents were killed in front of me when I was a kid. A racketeering gone wrong. Since then, I had always wanted to be a cop. September 11th decided me to join the army. "

Kent was pained to learn that, at the time. But he could only understand a little better what Wayne was like, why he was like that. Then he had a bitter grin.

"I never thought we'd have two things in common like that. "

Wayne just raised an eyebrow when he looked at him. Kent explained:

"My birth parents died when I was a child and everything disappeared with them. I watched my adopted father die in front of me. And then... on September 11th... "

It was still very vivid in the memory of all Americans, even 7 years later. Kent and Wayne never said another word. There wasn't much left to say. By mutual agreement, they got up and went back to their barracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, he's smoking in Blast.


	5. Week 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CID* : Criminal Investigation Division in US Army (aka United States Army Criminal Investigation Command)

# Week 5

* * *

_**Day 31 (11/06)** _

Kent tried to remain as impassive as possible. This was certainly not the time to flinch. If he ever lost his temper, he was going to lose a lot. Shit. He wasn't sure he was going to make it. He couldn't figure out what Stewart had in his hand. The guy was indescribable.

"I'm in. "

Kent clenched his jaw. The last card turned over. He closed his eyes as Stewart announced:

"A pair of Queens. "

A smile formed on his face before he opened his eyes again:

"A trio of six! Chocolate bars are mine! "

Kent took the bets as Queen and Jordan were shocked.

"You only had one pair John? A pair?! How about you, Clark, just one set?! Shit, I gave up with a pair of tens," Barry cried.

Stewart displayed a mean smile:

"Are you sure you know how to play poker, Barry? "

The latter muttered further down, offended, as Clark collected the rare treats from the camp: a rare commodity here. Queen folded her arms across her chest.

"Still, you're not cool. Basically, we had to do this to welcome me to your team, guys! "

Everyone looked at Queen with a mocking smile.

"But that's what we're doing, Ollie! We're welcoming you," Jordan laughed.

Kent thought about what happened. After investigating the events of the bombing, Palmer's behavior was deemed culpable: if he hadn't left the vehicles unattended, none of this would have happened. This was true, but to punish him... In his situation, Kent would probably have done the same. Maybe that was also why he didn't have any men under his command. But it wasn't the first time that vehicles had been left unattended. The CID* simply wanted a scapegoat.

As a result of this investigation, Palmer had been demoted and was now a Sergeant Major. He was still a superior to them, but Palmer had fallen from a high position. He was then assigned to Major Stone's command and Queen to Major Wayne's command, now making him his unit mate. Kent threw one of his bars at him:

"Here's to your welcome home! You'll need it. "

Oliver retrieved the bar as if it were worth its weight in gold.

"Bless you, Clark! "

He laughed and then got up from the table in the dining hall area.

"Well, the break is over for me! "

He was on his way to his work tent when Wayne passed by and whistled at them all:

"In front of the Humvee in 5 minutes! Need some reinforcements so get moving! "

Stone passed by and looked at his men:

"We're being called in too! Let's go! "

The next moment, everyone was on the move.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent was walking behind Stone, followed by Jordan, Curry and Queen. Across the street Wayne was in the lead with Allen, Palmer, Prince and Stewart. The two snipers at the back of the line carried their long sniper rifles and checked the rooftops further than they did.

At each building entrance, they quickly checked the interior and continued on. They could not afford to search every building in their path. Kent stopped when Stone raised his fist and followed the gesture. Stone grabbed his radio from his shoulder.

"I don't have anyone in sight, do you? "

" **No one either.** "

Stone swore.

"Shit, we are at the right coordinates. "

He released his radio and next door Kent could hear Wayne shouting:

"Ashworth! Sergeant Ashworth! This is Major Wayne! "

They waited a moment, scanning their surroundings so as not to be taken by surprise now that they had made more noise. There was nothing for a long minute. No movement, no noise. Kent had a bad feeling.

"Sergeant Ashworth!" Wayne retorted.

They waited another minute, then Stone gave the signal to move on.

This time they searched the buildings. Kent followed Stone without thinking, covering his back as they checked the rooms, floors, and then the buildings next door. They searched everything in the street. They found bullet holes in the walls and were able to mark a shooting zone. Stone tried again.

"Ashworth! Zane! "

There was no response. So they continued their search.

" **Stone, we got something. We're here.** "

Stone, Kent and Curry looked up and looked out the window to see Allen waving at them from the bottom of the building across the street. They then moved to join them.

Blood. There were trails of blood and a rather large trace on the floor. But no body, no soldier. And the blood was fresh. This time, Wayne observed the ground meticulously. The group watched him covering it, knowing that the Major had excellent tracking skills. He stopped at road level.

"The blood stopped there. I don't know if it was our soldiers, but whoever was bleeding got taken away. "

Stone joined him.

"We can't afford to jump to conclusions. We have to keep looking. "

Wayne nodded his head.

They searched all the buildings within a perimeter of one hundred and fifty meters before abandoning all searches and returning to their vehicles: night was beginning to fall and without news of them, they would not be able to find them without light. Kent checked the vehicles again for the first time since the bombing and was relieved that they were intact. But when they left, no one had the heart to laugh or talk: a group of men had disappeared without a trace.

* * *

_**Day 32 (11/07)** _

"We're stopping here," Wayne said on the radio.

Either inside a small building in ruins. They all sat down, exhausted from their long walk.

They had been walking for hours on end through the streets of the neighborhood. This time they had returned at dawn to search the area around the deployment perimeter with more soldiers. And even after spending all morning and early afternoon, they still hadn't found anything. No one had found anything. Kent, Palmer and Stone had interviewed a few people. Wayne had been at it, too. Kent wouldn't have suspected his superior of knowing how to speak Arabic, but the superior was just as well advised to inform him.

But no one had seen or heard anything. The soldiers had simply vanished into the air. No doubt they had been kidnapped, but as for what had happened to them...many of the soldiers who were looking for them were convinced that they were already dead. Kent tried to remain optimistic, but... as with his comrades, his optimism wore off with the passing hours.

He had learned from his comrades that a total of six soldiers were missing: Sergeant Ashworth and Privates Zane, Bans, Feltman, Wilding and Beers. Apparently, Feltman was also a deminer like him. There were fewer and fewer deminers these days. Especially because the period meant that they were all... jinxed, as they used to say.

Kent sighed and checked the condition of his weapon by reflex. If he were in the jihadists' place, he would keep those American soldiers alive. Because they were far more valuable alive than dead. They could very well ransom them, torture them for information, reconditioning them...

Well, they had to find them as soon as possible. He knew that today, if they didn't, other teams more specialized than them would take over. Tactical teams that would use other resources, but whose search methods would take longer.

He was really hoping that they would find their comrades. Wounded, hiding in a corner or finding the hiding place of their captors. But it would be foolish for them to stick around if they had captured them.

"We're going back," Wayne commanded.

All of them got up and resumed their itinerary that they had planned for themselves in order to better comb the area. It was long. Really very long. Kent kept Wayne in his tracks, covering his back, although this time he had also equipped himself with his Barrett. Kent had never understood why Wayne, as a sniper, didn't always carry his weapon with him and acted more on the ground than at height. Even though their unit was special, he didn't really understand how that changed his role. Maybe it was easier to cover for the team's deminer.

But in this case, he was the one who had his back. At each building entrance, the trained pairs would search all the rooms, separating as soon as they entered a building to search the area as best they could. The neighborhood they entered was one of the lower neighborhoods of Baghdad, with fewer buildings and the houses did not necessarily have many rooms.

It bothered Kent, that they would intrude like that into people's lives to search their homes. Threatened by several weapons, the Iraqis had no choice but to allow themselves to be pushed around, and just for that alone, he hated himself for being a soldier.

As they ventured farther from the city center, houses were further away from each other. Kent knew that if there was a place where they could find soldiers, maybe it was there. Held captive. He hoped so.

So every time he entered a house, he hoped to run into them. At first. As they entered a house like any other, Wayne found a trap door in the ground. It was more than unusual to find an underground basement. They brought in their comrades.

Kent lifted the trap door and Wayne went in first, lighting his flashlight. Kent followed him. They climbed down the ladder slowly, while behind them, Jordan followed with Queen. Allen had stayed upstairs to keep watch.

Then that's when they saw him. An American soldier. Bound and gagged, he was lying on the ground, visibly wounded above the hip. The man was in his thirties. His face vaguely reminded him of something, he must have already seen him at the camp. Then the light from their lamps landed on his chest. Instead of the bullet-proof vest, there was a belt of explosives. Wayne's reaction was immediate:

"Fall back! "

The soldiers climbed up the ladder, with the devil at their backs, while Kent remained in the cellar. He knew he should have reacted and fled. But the device had not exploded. Carefully, he approached the soldier. He was still breathing.

Kent knelt down on his level and first observed the explosive device: homemade, unsurprisingly, with a telephone as a detonator. If he hadn't jumped yet, it meant that either the signal wasn't getting through underground or the person with the detonator hadn't seen them go in.

He glanced at the name on the jacket and clenched his teeth before lightly tapping the soldier's face.

"Feltman. It's Sergeant Kent. Wake up. "

Kent was startled when he heard the crackling of his radio, which also seemed to bring the man back to himself. He heard Wayne's voice.

" **Ken... whe…you ?!** "

He wasn't sure what he meant, but it must have been to find out where he stood. He replied:

"In the cellar, with Feltman. "

The crackling could still be heard.

" **..at ?! ..peat** "

Kent repeated:

"In the cellar, with Feltman! "

He opened his eyes and tried to stand up. Kent helped him and leaned him against the wall.

"Go away... I've got a bomb... "

Kent couldn't help but grin.

"I saw, Feltman. I'm Sergeant Kent. Bomb Disposal Officer. "

Kent aimed his flashlight at his face, then wedged it between his thighs to get a better view of the bomb. He also took off his helmet and noticed that Feltman didn't have his helmet anymore. He turned the lights on, wiped his sweaty skull and put his helmet back on with the lights on while his radio sizzled:

" **...py...cover... ...transmitted...** "

Well, he didn't understand. Not at all. Feltman spoke to him, his throat visibly dry.

"Kent... you're... the Man of Steel? "

Kent frowned and handed him his gourd in one hand so that he could drink, and in the other he took his radio.

"Repeat, Wayne. " He paused "Repeat. "

He gently drank Feltman from the neck of his canteen and gave him a drink for a while. He took a look at the device, walked around Feltman to see if he could untie his hands and when he was sure it was safe, he cut the rope with his knife.

" **... you...got...ver… I say... you... cover...** "

He still didn't understand much. He took a look at Feltman's wound, which already seemed to be clotting, but he wasn't sure. He took a bag of clotting powder out of one of his pockets when Feltman put his hand on his own.

"No need... You have to leave... "

Kent frowned.

"Feltman, I'll defuse the damn vest and we'll get you out of here. "

The man shook his head negatively, still preventing Kent from using his powder.

"I'm already fucked up... it's getting harder and harder to breathe... Do you know where the others are? "

The deminer noticed that his colleague was indeed running out of breath quickly. But he wasn't going to give up like that. He released his hand and opened the bag to apply it to the wound.

"We don't know where they are. What's happened? "

He put his flashlight back on for better visibility and took out his small pair of bolt cutters.

"Ambush. There were many of them... Zane was shot in the shoulder... Beers was killed because he fought back... They took Zane and Beers with them... The Sergean, Wilding, Bans and I were taken here... "

Feltman paused. He patted Kent on the shoulder and showed him his shoe.

"They put these vests on us... I struggled and they shot me... my tags... "

Kent followed his finger to search the laces of his boot. He knew exactly where to look. It was very common among soldiers, especially those who were at risk of being exposed to explosives, to put their identification tags in their shoes. To keep them in good condition, or to make it easier to find them if there were no more bodies.

"Do you know where they were taken? And how long ago?" Kent asked as he took the tags out.

Feltman shook his head negatively and then started coughing heavily, causing Kent to miss a heartbeat. He stretched himself along Feltman's cough for fear of exploding. But he stopped and Kent was still there to see the blood coming out of his mouth.

"I don't know... Kent... my plates... give them to my wife... "

Kent shook his head.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Feltman. You're going to come back with me. "

Tears ran down Feltman's face.

"It's Ben... tell her I love her... Keira... I want her... to be happy... "

Feltman was crying and Kent couldn't stay still.

"I'm going to get you out of this, Ben. Stay with me... "

Feltman smiled slightly as tears streamed down his cheeks.

"I'm a bomb squad... it had to end... like that... Kent... go ahead... "

He then saw the soldier grab the phone.

"Ben... "

Kent felt the tears streaming down his own cheeks.

"It hurts... terribly... to breathe... "

Kent saw Feltman squeeze the phone. He saw his determined look through his tears. He was about to blow himself up. Kent knew that by the time he defused the bomb, Feltman would die before he reached a hospital.

"Save... the others... "

Kent wiped his face and nodded.

It was an honor to meet you, Ben Feltman.

The soldier smiled.

"An honor... shared... Man of... Steel... "

The wounded man greeted him respectfully, and Kent did the same. Then he went about his business.

"If they not…set off… the bomb... when you... will... be... out... I'll leave you... 10 seconds... "

Feltman was on the verge of unconsciousness. Kent climbed up the ladder and without warning, he ran without really knowing where, but he ran as far as he could. The next moment he heard the explosion and then fell down because of the vibrations and the blast. The house he came from had disappeared.

"Kent! "

Lying on the ground, he was buzzed, but it took him a little time to get up. He was still holding Ben Feltman's plates in his hand.

"Kent! God damn it," Wayne cried.

He got up to see his team running towards him.

"Where's Feltman?" asked the Major.

Kent didn't answer right away.

"He's dead," he finally said, discreetly slipping the tags into his pocket.

"You abandoned Feltman?! " Queen became angry.

"There was nothing I could do. "

In front of him, Queen was bubbling on the spot. He knew Feltman. Wayne pulled Queen back and turned to him.

"Did he say anything about the others? "

Kent widened his eyes.

"The others! We have to warn the teams! They have explosive vests on them. Probably to trap us! "

Wayne looked at Allen, who had the long range radio to transmit the information. Kent added:

"Beers is dead. Zane is wounded but ... "

Wayne nodded.

"We're too far away from the other teams. We're going back downtown. I'll inform the CP. "

They then resumed their route. Kent gritted his teeth and touched Feltman's tags in his pocket. Was it the destiny of all deminers to end up this way?

* * *

_**Day 33 (11/08)** _

He sighed and reread the letter again. It seemed correct to him. He was tactless, he knew it, but there was no other way to explain it. He closed his eyes. In his letter, he explained in a few lines the last moments of a soldier. Clark had not known him before, but he wanted his wife to know that his last thoughts were for her, he wanted her to know that he had been brave to the end. He wanted her to be proud of the man she had married.

He folded the sheet and slipped it into a thick envelope along with the ID tags. In his official report, Clark had said that the bomb was too unstable for him to defuse it and that Feltman had died from his injuries. Yes, he had lied. But he wanted to preserve Feltman's honor. He didn't want others to take his act as that of a coward who gives up and blows himself up. That was far from being the case.

He left his barracks and went to the place where mail could be given to be sent. Normally, by the time his letter reached its destination, his wife would already have been told that her husband had died. And to think that even by making OpEx, this man had managed to find love and build a life. It was unfair. His disappearance would probably have done him less harm than this man's.

He gave the letter and went back to his barracks. The day before, when they had returned downtown, they had learned that one of the teams had exploded. They found Wilding lying in the middle of the street and rushed to rescue him. They all exploded with him, except for one soldier who was left behind and is currently in the hospital due to the effects of the blast.

Ashworth had suffered the same fate, costing the life of another deminer. As for Bans... once the information was relayed... they found him. Everyone had evacuated the area. Bans understood his fate. The team that found him had stayed for several hours watching him wait for his death. Until the explosion.

So after that... it's safe to say that no one in the camp was in a good mood. Clark knew that some of the soldiers resented him for not helping Feltman. For not defusing that bomb and bringing back their brother-in-arms' body. A body they could have buried.

Barry had told him that the tension would pass. Maybe he was the only one who didn't run from it. Even Hal was distancing himself. He sighed. To think that while he was in the hospital, they all had fun calling him the Man of Steel, apparently for his nerves of steel in the face of a bomb, only to ignore him once he got to camp.

Kent hit the wall in front of him and sent what was on his desk waltzing out. He would have wanted to save Feltman too! What were the others thinking?! That he was a coward? To hell with them all! He was committed to limiting the dead. He really believed it would make a difference. Now he doubted it. He doubted everything.

* * *

_**Day 36 (11/11)** _

Kent was really scrutinizing the Humvee bombing device he had in front of him. Since the incident with Feltman's team, he had spent all of his free time on it. And of the free time, he hadn't had much. The bomb squad was dropping like flies and they were not given priority over replacements. So he was more in demand at the moment, just like his other deminers colleagues.

He had been very meticulous in his expert work. He had made several different sketches of the assembly, listed the elements, detailed their composition, material, size,... He hoped that this could help other deminers or be used later. Annotating first all his observations, he would occasionally add personal notes, giving his opinion or hypotheses. Everything was written down in a large notepad he had been given and written in pen, even his diagrams.

Concentrating on the wires, he needed to use more light and examined them closely with his flashlight. He had wondered how the bomber had managed not to confuse the wires in his installation, when he had to connect them to the other elements. Then he noticed the glue marks. Glue like adhesive. That's what he must have done. Put some colored adhesive on and then remove it. It was really ingenious.

Kent looked up from the cables when he smelled coffee. He turned off his lamp and realized that it was getting dark. He then noticed Wayne, who put a cup under his nose and sat down in front of him, having obviously brought a chair.

"Thank you. "

Kent retrieved the cup and smelled the coffee, breathing a sigh of pleasure. He needed it so badly. In front of him, Wayne took a sip from his cup and then pulled out a cigarette.

"You should stop there for today. "

Wayne was physically indescribable. It was hard for him to know what his major was like when he wasn't angry.

"I have a few more things to look at and then I'll be done. "

He then took a sip of his coffee and made a grimace, remembering how foul the coffee served here was. He then saw Wayne display a semblance of a smile.

"It's going to get dark, you won't have any more light. And then you're going to get even more tired working in these conditions. Even this undrinkable coffee won't help you. "

Kent laughs at the reference to coffee.

"It's clear that it's undrinkable. "

Then he hesitated to pack up his things. As he saw that Wayne didn't seem determined to leave, and the brightness had already dropped considerably, he might just leave it alone. He nodded his head.

"You've won. I'm packing up. "

He began to put the items away on reflex. He knew that he could leave everything in place because no one would touch it. He could tell everyone that the bomb had no more explosives and that it was not going to go off, but it didn't matter, everyone was running away from his tent. Except Wayne, obviously.

"Can I? "asked the Major then, pointing to the notebook.

Kent agreed as he tidied up. Wayne looked at the pages.

He quickly finished packing up his things and sat down when he saw that Wayne seemed visibly very interested in what he had in front of him. The diagrams were technical, so was his vocabulary, but it didn't seem to interfere with his supervisor's reading. He was impressed because what he had done was aimed at professionals like him.

Then the brightness dropped quickly, as did the level of Kent's coffee. It hindered Wayne's reading, and he closed the block and kept the page.

"I'd like to keep reading it. Will you come with me? I'd like to discuss it with you. "

Kent frowned, surprised.

"Uh, I'll follow you. "

Wayne turned to him:

"We'll need coffee. "

Kent had got the message. He nodded his head and they separated.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent was examining the inside of Wayne's room. Like his, it had a room with a single bed, a desk and a storage unit that everyone used as a closet and a small enclosed bathroom compartment. In fact, it was exactly the same as his. Apparently, the rooms for NCOs and senior officers were the same. There was only favoritism between soldiers and officers.

He noted, however, that Wayne had not personalized the premises at all. So did he, in fact, but only because he had been there for about a month. On reflection, maybe it was more personalized on his side. Wayne was obviously not very materialistic. A first-rate antisocialist, in fact. Yet he obviously didn't mind being there.

Sitting on the bed, he was waiting for Wayne's next comment on his notes. Wayne had taken his chair and turned to him to read. Kent, meanwhile, drank coffee in silence and mentally congratulated himself for bringing a thermos with him to avoid the extra trips back and forth.

"You say that the wires are classic? What do you mean by that? "

Kent stepped out of his thoughts and answered:

"They're everywhere. The diameter could make you think of headset cables, or phone charger cables, small cables. It's quite common actually. "

Wayne nodded and resumed his reading. Kent held back a sigh for fear of being heard. He felt like he was going back to school when a teacher took him aside to read his homework. It was as if he was being punished in the principal's office. He hated the situation before as much as he does now.

He had been there for over an hour. He didn't remember his report being that long, but Wayne didn't seem to be putting anything aside. If his Major's questions were really focused on the bomb, Kent didn't see what good it would do him. But then again, he seemed to be close to the end of the notepad. He had asked a few questions about the size of the components or the materials used.

Then Wayne finished reading his notes, closed the notepad and put it on his desk behind him.

"You did a remarkable job. You're really good at what you do. "

Kent ran one hand through his short hair, very embarrassed. He wasn't really sure if Wayne was in a good position to judge his demining skills, but the compliment still touched him.

"Thank you. "

Wayne smiled slightly as he noticed his embarrassment.

"Truly. Your former superiors were foolish to part with an element like you. "

Okay. This time Kent felt red up to his ears. He really wasn't used to getting compliments. It was so embarrassing. He let out a little laugh to try to relax, to no avail.

"I...I think I gave them a hard time too. "

"They should have tried to adapt to you, not the other way around. Finally. Their mistake is good for me. "

Wayne's smile finished inside Kent, who really felt the warmth coming out of his ears and all over his face. For in addition to displaying a real smile, he was perhaps the greatest compliment he ever received from anyone outside his family. Then Wayne laughed. Kent couldn't take offense at that, he didn't dare imagine the look on his face right now.

"You don't seem to get many compliments! I didn't think you were so... humble. You have rare qualities, Kent. "

He turned his head away and drank a sip of coffee while his superior obviously couldn't help but laugh. It was far from a mocking laugh, he knew that. The thought helped him relax a bit and he focused on the sound of Wayne laughing. And the image he had of smiling. It was so rare that he had to engrave that in his memory. For the next time they would fight.

"Um...No indeed. I never really managed to make a place for myself anywhere so... I didn't get a lot of compliments from other people. "

Wayne nodded his head and stopped laughing, keeping a slight smile on his face.

"Good. I note for the next few times that we'll have to take it easy, or it's going to give you an aneurysm. " He paused with a sigh. "You know, I'm the first one to tell people when they're doing a shitty job. That's why when I recognize a good one, I think it's just as good to report it. Your sketches are extremely precise and very neat, your explanations and annotations too. Of course, I know it's not the final report you're going to hand in, but it's very informative. Both on the creator of the craft, the craft itself but also on you. "

Kent raised an eyebrow of surprise.

"About me? "

Wayne displayed a smirk.

"It's very easy to identify a person by their actions, behavior, and speech. "

Kent raised his second eyebrow.

"In addition to being a sniper and field soldier, you're also a profiler? "

Wayne shook his head.

"No, I'm just a very good observer. "

The Major then took out a cigarette and lit it, taking on a neutral look. The change did not surprise Kent, but it impressed him. This guy could pass a mask of impassivity with disconcerting ease.

"Getting back to the bomb, can you tell me the composition of the explosives? "

Kent's thinking. He hadn't had the explosives in his hands for long, but he remembered the expert who recovered them talking about the smell of ammonia. That and the fact that the explosive he was thinking of was in the top three most commonly used explosives...

"It was TATP. It's a chemical compound that's quite easy to make, you can find the elements of its composition very easily. You would need hydrogen peroxide, propanone, chlorhydric acid-"

Wayne stopped him with a wave of his hand.

"Okay, okay. I got it. It's easy to do. And it's undetectable? "

Kent nodded.

"It's just some white powder that's a little crystalline. But it's quite unstable and very dangerous. To produce it you'd better have some skill in chemistry. Good skills. "

Wayne breathed in his cigarette by nodding his head.

"What does a bad manipulator risk? "

Kent took some time to think.

"Very serious chemical burns to his hands and eyes. "

Wayne moved closer.

"What else can you tell me about this chemical compound? "

Kent thought and said everything that came into his head.

"Well, acetone peroxide, his other name, is increasingly unstable after it's made. So... instead of a terrorist, I'll produce some at the last minute and use it as an explosive for my bomb. After... like many other explosives, it can have a different detonation. It will be more violent when contained, but otherwise the TATP will burn. Finally, with such a system it explodes violently. Combined with flammable products it can do a lot of damage, the explosion would boost the flames. On the other hand, the explosive is not as strong as TNT, that's 80% of its power. "

Wayne nodded his head, seemingly assimilating all the information Kent was giving him without even taking notes. He remained pensive for long seconds like that, as the deminer had finished his presentation.

"Okay," Wayne concluded. "And with all the elements divided, any guy could put the bomb together? "

Kent took a short time to think about it: he had already thought of that.

"It's not an impossible thing to do. With very good explanations and thoroughness on the part of the bomber, well I'd say it's doable. But I won't risk putting one of my bombs in someone else's hands if I want to make sure that the intended target is hit. The risks of letting someone incompetent do it are too high. "

Wayne nodded. Kent then realized that he had an idea in mind. His superior asked another question:

"You say in your report that the bomb was locked in a box and that when you removed it, the laser was activated and used as a detonator, is that right? "

Kent swallowed the memory and nodded his head. Wayne continued:

"But a guy with that kind of talent, could he have put the trigger on the lid? So that when the box opened, the bomb would explode? "

"Of course," Kent replied as if it were an absolute certainty.

He then saw Wayne lose his mask of impassivity for a brief moment. He could read the stupor on his face before it was driven off. Wayne crushed his cigarette, which had largely consumed itself. He stood up. Kent realized he had ideas.

"You're right," he said. "This guy is a sadist. I think that bomb was just a test. "

Kent stood up on reflex in turn.

"A test? "

Wayne nodded.

"A target like us was ridiculous. It was nothing symbolic, nothing serious. We lose soldiers every day. But this bomb... too sophisticated to attack such a small target. I think it was a test. A test for a bomber, a surrogate. It wasn't supposed to be his first, but we must have missed the others. We've only been paying attention since we survived. "

Kent saw Wayne clench his fists. That's when the deminer realized what it meant. There were going to be more attacks like this. With a much bigger target. He thinks fast, sticking the pieces together in his head. He hit himself in the face when he put something back in evidence.

"And guess who the men we're missing right now are? This guy wants to let the bomb disposal officer know that they lost to him just before he died. "

Wayne nodded his head. He had come to the same conclusion. He grabbed Kent's notebook and headed for the exit. Kent followed him. He could see that his boss was having trouble keeping his cool. His face may not have shown any expressions, but he was clenching his teeth.

"Your elements," Wayne began. Separate, they're harmless. There's nothing to be alarmed about with X-ray gantries or metal detectors, and the K-9 unit can't track their scent if it's packed.

Kent understood at that moment the worst-case scenario Wayne had imagined. Wayne resumed as they arrived in front of Colonel Jones' office.

"And you know what else can't be detected at the gates either? Teeth. "

In short, with accomplices, the bomber could easily break into an American-controlled public building and detonate a bomb undetected. There was indeed an emergency.


	6. Week 6

# Week 6

* * *

_**Day 39 (11/14)** _

"Kent! Kent standing up right away! "

He woke up with a start and put himself on his legs by automatism.

"I'm coming, boss! "

He quickly put on his boots. Damn laces. It always took ten lead times to put them on!

"I want you in the Humvee in two minutes," Kent shouted Wayne behind his door.

His Major's voice was muffled. Fortunately the barracks were a minimum of soundproofing. At last. In any case, between the bombings, the alarms and the shouts of his Major, even double glazing would not be enough.

Two minutes later, or almost, he was in the Humvee where everyone was waiting for him. It was already almost dark. Wayne briefed him as Jordan started the vehicle.

"We're going to the Green Zone Hospital. Suspicious package. Colonel Don Hall is on site. "

Kent rubbed his eyes to wake up as quickly as possible.

"The Green Zone? Why us? "

"No more bomb squad available. "

Kent rolled his eyes and dropped his head back. Their base was on the opposite side of the city, and on the outer edge of the city. In other words, they weren't the closest.

"It's going to be okay, Clark? " asked Allen next to him.

He nodded.

"Part of me regrets saying that we have to increase the security level of the buildings at risk. "

By "unsafe buildings," he meant those that were strategic to the enemy and those with minimal security. However, since the order had been transmitted from above, the deminers were very much in demand. Kent could not deny this, and rightly so. But in three days they had come across five false alarms. Allen laughed next to him.

"It's true that everyone's on the warpath, but it saved Carson and his team from coming back between four boards! "

Kent grunted, while Jordan added at the front:

"And that must have served other soldiers well. You've got to hang in there, Kent! "

He preferred not to answer. Unlike the rest of his team, he hadn't had time to rest. Besides, when he had advised that, he didn't really think he was being taken literally. He knew that if the bomber had to act again, it would probably take weeks to plan another attack, maybe even months. He sighed again. He had penalized himself. The system could get really screwed up.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

They soon arrived on the spot. Because the vehicle was moving around a lot and was shaking around, Kent had not been tempted to sleep. But he felt the fatigue like a physical weight on his shoulders. It was bad. Very bad. A distracted deminer greatly increased the chances of detonating a bomb.

He got out of the vehicle while they were at the hospital dispensary level. A soldier guided them to the General, who was stationed right at the reception desk. Kent did not like seeing so many people, nor so much noise. The emergency room next door had not even been evacuated. They saluted as soon as they saw their superior.

"I'm Colonel Hall. At ease soldiers. "

"Major Wayne. Our bomb disposal expert, Sergeant Kent, and these are Privates Jordan and Allen. "

Hall, a tall, tough guy with an uncomfortable look on his face, seemed to judge Kent by the look of his eyes.

"I have heard of you. That's our luck. A little over half an hour ago, a guy arrived with a big bag in the emergency room. We don't know where he came in, but it certainly wasn't searched. "

Hall leaned over to the nurses' office and showed images from the cameras on the computer screens. They were really poor quality.

"He hasn't been back since, and it was a nurse who warned us. She watches the bag so that no one touches it. "

Kent judged the size of the bag. Big gym bag. He was really going to have a job if it was a bomb. He was going to need his handheld scanner.

"Why didn't you evacuate," Kent asked.

Hall looked at him as if he'd just asked the stupidest question in the world.

"Because then we can control the number of victims. If we evacuate the hospital, it will create panic and we're not enough to control the crowd. It could do even more damage. "

Kent looked at him with some bitterness. He would obviously never stop seeing how far human cruelty could go.

"Have you found the man?" Wayne asked.

Hall shrugged.

"Soldiers are looking for him upstairs. Do it quietly. "

Kent rubbed his eyes.

"Aye, sir. "

He went to get the equipment he needed from the Humvee and waited before going through the emergency doors. He didn't have any coffee. He had to get some adrenaline going. So he did as they were taught in military school, in this kind of situation. He did a few squats, under the stunned looks of the soldiers around him.

"Do you think it's time to do some gymnastics?! " Hall got angry.

Kent remained calm when he replied:

"I'm not rested, Colonel. "

He saw out of the corner of his eye that Wayne had stepped forward to anticipate a bad reaction. Hall came towards him, threatening.

"At four o'clock in the afternoon? You've got to be kidding me! "

Kent stopped. He had fully recovered his thinking skills.

"I have five hours of sleep accumulated over the last 48 hours, sir. "

And without waiting for the rest, he walked through the emergency door.

He was assaulted by all kinds of noises and complaints. Acting as if he was going to make a visit, because many soldiers were passing through this hospital, he went to greet the nurse who had spotted the bag and discreetly made her understand that he was there for that. She then guided him to the cubicle and drew the curtains around the bag and him.

He observes it carefully before using his imaging device. While he was expecting to see a bomb, he was surprised to find something completely banal in it. Another false alarm. He sighed in disappointment and opened the bag. Clothes, belongings, toiletries and a few personal items. Probably someone who had come to bring things to a patient and for some reason had forgotten his belongings.

He closed the bag and carried it over his shoulder, telling the nurse that it was a false alarm. He walked back the other way and returned to his superiors. He dropped the bag at the Colonel's feet.

"False alarm. The guy must have forgotten his bag. We can go," he told Wayne.

He was about to leave when the Colonel grabbed him by the arm.

"This guy looks panicked and in a hurry. You're not going anywhere. Maybe it was a diversion. Langdon, Young! You check that bag for me! "

Kent refrained from rolling his eyes or making a comment. He moved to the side of his classmates. Jordan blew to Allen:

"Still, if someone I knew was in the hospital, I'd look panicked and in a hurry to see him too. "

Allen nodded Jordan's approval with a slight nod and smiled. The doors then opened on a panicked Iraqi man surrounded by two soldiers.

"We found him, Colonel! "

The man begged to let him go in Arabic as the soldiers brought him to his knees.

"Are you hiding a bomb?" Hall asked in an aggressive tone.

It was translated by another soldier. Kent knew that in this situation he should not react. It wasn't his team in charge of the threat. They were only there to escort him, and his job was to defuse bombs. Not to interrogate potential terrorists. Yet when the man spoke, he knew he was telling the truth.

"Tell your lies to others! This bag! What is it?! "

The man told his story. He had just returned from a trip when he learned that his sister had been taken to the emergency room and had gone straight to the hospital to see her. He had arrived just as she was being rushed to the O.R. He dropped his bag in panic and went to see her. A scenario that anyone could have done.

"So where did you come from? When did you get here? Where are your plane tickets? "

Hall was pestering him with questions while the man was crying. The military superior didn't believe him for a second.

Kent took advantage of everyone's attention to get behind the desk and get on the computer. The screen was already showing the list of recently registered patients. It did show the name the man had given for his sister. He frowned and raised his head to see Wayne right next to it. He had already checked before. He knew he was telling the truth.

"How about this? What is this?! "

Hall showed a small book with a decorated cover. Kent replied at the same time as the man.

"It's a Koran. "

Everyone turned their heads towards it. Hall didn't like what he said.

"Maybe it's a Koran, or a damn list of terrorists or potential targets! What do we know about it?! "

He opened the book to quickly turn the pages. The man stared at Kent as if he was hoping to get him out of there. Kent dared:

"Can I see? "

The Colonel threw the book at him.

"If it will make you shut your mouth! "

He resumed his interrogation by shouting at the man. Kent leafed through the book. There was really nothing abnormal in it. The pages were worn, there was no double cover, no visible markings.

"My Colonel, this is a Koran. Nothing more. I believe that this man is telling the truth. "

Hall turned to him.

"I told you to shut up, Sergeant! "

Kent approached the man and walked past Hall, returning his sacred text to him with delicacy. The man thanked him before Kent was pulled back by Hall.

"What are you doing, interfering in my interrogation?! Get the hell out of my face! "

"But the man is telling the truth," Kent protested fiercely. "This is a real Koran! "

Kent then saw Wayne impose himself on them, without separating them.

"He also tells the truth about his sister. His papers attest to his identity, and the hospital register has a patient with the same name he gave. "

Hall shot them with his eyes.

"And since when have you been an expert in the Muslim religion and you've been an expert in information? "

Wayne got out of the way a bit.

"Since I know how to use a computer and search through a wallet. "

Kent, for his part, took out of one of his trouser pockets the little Koran that he had bought a few weeks before on the market, after his first copy had been ruined with water.

"And I've had the same version ever since. "

He glanced at Hall before opening his own Koran and reading aloud in Arabic :

" _It is the same for them whether you beg forgiveness for them or not: Allah will never forgive them, for Allah does not guide perverse people._ "

The silence lasted a few seconds. Kent could see the fury on Hall's face.

"What the hell kind of side are you on?!" He fulminates.

This time Wayne walked right past Kent to face Hall.

"In ours, if you're on the side of justice, Colonel. This man is obviously the victim of a misunderstanding. "

Hall heard Wayne's words, but he couldn't take his eyes off Kent, whom he saw behind the Major.

"You're protecting a fucking traitor! " He turned to his men. "Let him go. As for you... we're not done, Kent. And neither are you, Wayne. "

Kent bit his lip. He had calculated the risks for himself, but he hadn't thought about the consequences for Wayne. Wayne replied:

"So let's do it this way, Colonel. It was very instructive working with you. "

Without Wayne making the slightest gesture, they all understood that they had to leave. They got in the Humvee and left as quickly as possible.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The return was very quiet. It had already been dark for a long time and Kent was concentrating on the sky so as not to feel guilty. But he couldn't help it. When they got out of the vehicle, Jordan and Allen realized that they should be left alone to talk. Kent took the plunge.

"Major... I'm really sorry for the way I acted, I didn't mean-"

Wayne cut it off with one gesture.

"Hall is an asshole by reputation. I hate guys like him. You don't have to apologize for anything, Kent. I'm gonna tell Colonel Jones. Get some sleep. "

Kent nodded.

"Thank you, Major. "

He ran back to his barracks when he heard behind him:

"By the way, I didn't know you could read Arabic. "

Kent turned around and smiled proudly.

"I've always been very good at learning languages. "

"So there are others that you have learned? "

Kent stretched out his smile.

"What about you Major? I'm sure you're not only bilingual. "

His superior was far too smart to speak just one more language, that was for sure. Wayne displayed a grin, quickly camouflaged by the cigarette he lit.

"I'd be happy to discuss this with you, Kent. "

He turned around and continued on his way, a satisfied smile. Wayne's words had not fallen on deaf ears.

* * *

**_Day 41 (11/16)_ **

Kent was focused on Wayne. He couldn't read his face or his gestures, so he was trying to spot the smallest detail that could give him away.

"Four. "

There wasn't a single micromovement from Wayne. Okay. He was obviously far from the mark. It had been more than fifteen minutes since the two of them, sitting opposite each other for lunch, had been looking at each other like dogs.

"Six. "

Still no reaction. Kent was getting impatient. He could see in Wayne's eyes that he was amused.

"Uh... what are you doing there?" asked Allen.

They were surrounded by Barry, Arthur, Oliver and Hal.

"I think Kent is trying to guess a number that Wayne had in mind," Oliver replied, unsure of himself.

Kent didn't let himself get distracted. It was like he was having a duel with Wayne. His presence with him had caught the eye as they began their meal alone.

"Nine. "

He then saw Wayne's right index finger react. Ah! He was almost there! So Wayne knew so many languages?! He was about to get beaten up.

"Eleven? "

Wayne leaned back in his chair and nodded his head. Clark let out a cry of victory, proud to have found it. And somehow a little disappointed to find someone better than him at learning languages.

"Eleven what?" Barry asked.

Kent folded his arms over his chest.

"Bruce Wayne speaks a total of eleven different languages! "

"Seriously ?!" Hal let go. "You're a secret agent Major? "

Wayne turned to Jordan with a shrug.

"My butler wanted me to speak several languages. "

They were all surprised by his answer. It made Kent want to get to know him even more. Then Wayne leaned back on the table again to probe Kent. It was his turn to guess.

"Ten. "

Kent was totally surprised. That was it.

"How did you figure it out the first time?! "

Wayne answered him as if it was obvious.

"You were confident with nine, then disappointed with eleven. I concluded that I had beaten your account. "

Kent felt a hand tap his shoulder and turned to Barry.

"You speak ten languages?! "

Kent nodded.

"Enough to be able to get by in the country and understand people. It's more of a common language. How about you, Wayne? "

"My learning was more... academic. "

Kent turned his full attention to his supervisor and put both elbows on the table to examine him closely.

"Okay, so besides English and Arabic... I would say... Spanish? "

"That's right. You have eight more to find. "

Kent's thinking. So Wayne had a butler when he was young. Probably the one who raised him after his parents died. So he came from a pretty wealthy family, maybe even rich. Probably rich. The only interest for a rich person to speak several languages is to better understand the workings of finance and commerce. Wayne must surely have been the heir to an industrial empire. So he spoke the languages of great powers.

"Chinese. " He paused. "The two main dialects? "

Wayne nodded.

"I know Mandarin and Cantonese. Only six more to go. "

"Japanese, Russian and German? "

"Correct for Japanese and Russian. Unfortunately, I'm bad at German. "

Kent widens his smile. He was good at German.

"So... I would say Portuguese. "

Wayne nodded. So it was more of a European language.

"Austrian? "

The answer was no.

"French? "

"Correct. I spent a few months there. You have two left. "

Kent smiled. He had spent a year living and studying in Paris.

"Flemish? "

He saw the man frowning.

"Fortunately, Belgians also speak French! "

Okay, so it must not have been a country with a French language for others. So not the border countries to the east of France. Based on that principle, the country was not really supposed to be bilingual, so... it was left with either the Nordic countries or the countries of the Near East.

"The Latvian? "

He regretted having said that the moment it came out. Wayne shook his head negatively. Kent resumed:

"No. Rather... Swedish or Norwegian. "

Wayne raised an eyebrow. Kent swore and thought again. The countries of the Mediterranean basin otherwise.

"Croatian, or Greek? Mmh. More like Italian. "

Wayne displayed a smirk.

"Italian, well thought out. And the last one? "

Clark was surprised himself. He took some time to think.

"Still a European language? "

"That's right. "

"Dutch? "

"Failed. "

Kent frowned. He looked further north again.

"The Polish? "

"No more. "

He didn't see him speak either Hungarian or Finnish...

"I dry. "

Wayne stretched out a smile.

"Irish. "

Kent raised an eyebrow. Arthur expressed his deepest thoughts.

"I thought the Irish spoke English? "

Ah. Kent remembered the local language. His deduction from the Flemish was not quite correct.

"Do you really speak Irish Gaelic? I'm impressed. But I don't see much use for it. "

Wayne displayed a smirk.

"I must confess that I learned this language for Celtic legends. "

Wayne's grin didn't stay long, but Kent was charmed by this detail. Wayne was obviously passionate about it. The Major then asked a question that surprised Kent.

"And you, why did you learn so many languages? "

They all turned to him. Kent shrugged.

"Well, I'm very interested in different cultures and I've traveled quite a bit. Knowing the language of a country is a real boost to learning more. "

He heard a small laugh from Barry.

"Oddly enough, it doesn't surprise me that you've traveled. You have a literary soul! "

Kent smiled at him. The Flash couldn't have been more right. He was about to answer the blond man when they heard Colonel Jones' voice calling out to them. Work was resuming.

* * *

**_Day 43 (11/18)_ **

Kent really didn't like escort missions. Because walking in the middle of the streets with his detector didn't reassure him so much. He knew that security had been increased and that Wayne and Queen were perched somewhere looking out for him, but he didn't like the memory of his last escort so much.

" **So Kent, you didn't tell us why you learned Korean!** "said Allen in an amused tone.

Kent looked up to the sky and glanced at his colleague, who was walking several meters to his right.

" **Thanks for bringing up the subject again Barry! We know about Russian, German, French, Japanese, Korean, Greek, Cantonese but not Korean!** "replied Jordan, as opposed to Allen versus Kent.

Kent sighed and took his radio.

"Won't you give me a break with that? "

Barry's response was immediate.

" **Certainly not!** "

Kent almost wished his frying pan would alarm. He was far too ashamed about it.

"I wouldn't say anything. "

" **Oh, come on, man! I'm sure you told the Bat!** "

He tried to hold back his smile. It was way too hard to hide something from Wayne. He had lasted less than an hour. Now he understood a little better why it was said that Wayne always got the information he wanted. This guy would have been so much more effective as a spy, with all the skills he had! He was surprised that no one spotted him.

"What makes you think I told him anything? "

" **Well, already because the Bat doesn't answer, and also because nobody resists him.** "

Kent continued on his way and branched off as planned.

"Arrow also did not answer. "

He almost stumbled on a rock. This street was in worse condition than the previous one. It was easier to hide mines or bombs in a street that was already in poor condition.

" **Unlike others I try to stay focused.** "

Kent smiles at Queen's response. He was about to answer when his frying pan rang.

"I've got something! "

He crouched down when he heard the impact right behind him, along with the sound of the shot. His blood was running around as he ran to safety, screaming for help from Jordan and Allen:

"Contact! Contact! "

"Sniper! "

Kent had run to Jordan and they both hid between two buildings. From their position they could only see Barry who had hidden in the entrance opening of one building. He had less mobility but the space was deep enough to completely cover him.

More shots were heard. They had no visibility and the shots were from a sniper.

" **Join the convoy! We're falling back!** "

It was Stone's voice on the convoy channel. He and Jordan watched their hiding place and then the street. They were at a dead end, and Allen clearly couldn't get out without a green light from theirs snipers.

"Impossible, Major. We can't leave our position. "

" **Roger that, Sergeant. Rendez-vous at the delta extraction point**. "

"Copy. "

There wasn't much shooting, but they could hear it. Until Wayne gave the green light, they couldn't leave. And if there were several snipers, they could very well decide not to reveal themselves. And that could go on for a long time.

"Fuck it," Jordan told him. "It's going to take a long time. "

Kent nodded.

"That's for sure. "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

" **I'm moving.** "

Kent and Jordan straightened up. They had been waiting in radio silence for several hours so as not to disturb their snipers.

"Where are you going? " Kent asked Wayne, who had spoken.

" **Hunt down the enemy.** "

Kent resumed his radio.

"This is crazy! "

He then heard Stewart's voice on the radio.

" **Kent is right. Stay in position, it'll be better.** "

" **I know there's one left and I know it won't move. Cover me, that's an order.** "

Kent clenched his teeth. He was very upset that he couldn't do anything!

He and Jordan listened. For the next hour, they only heard two shots in a row. Twenty minutes later, Wayne told them it was over and came back to them covered in blood.


	7. Week 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /!\ As a reminder, this is a fiction. There is no interpretation to be made between what is written and my personal convictions. I have tried to trace Clark Kent's personality, including his beliefs, as best I can. Please do not make any disparaging comments on this subject.

# Week 7

* * *

_**Day 44 (11/19)** _

Clark was angry. Or frustrated. He didn't really know. All he knew was that yesterday it had stressed him out waiting to get out of his stash. And he was angry when Wayne came back full of blood. At the time, he thought it was his, and he reacted really badly. Not in front of everyone, he had a modicum of restraint, but he let Wayne know what he was thinking, about his unconsciousness and his hotheaded attitude.

And even the next day he couldn't calm down. He was tense. It wasn't in his habit to react that way. He was rather calm, he had gone crazy and he calmed down by using his free time to read. In other words, he didn't read much. He had been through some tough times before. But each time, he had the impression that the one he was going through was more difficult than the others. Maybe it was true, what they said about soldiers. Maybe they all ended up wearing out during the war effort. Maybe he was wearing out.

Clark never thought to count the days he had left here as a lot of soldiers. He preferred to count the ones he had already spent. And to make the number seem smaller, he would reset his count to zero every time he changed shifts. Since he tended to get fired quite often, it was easier that way. It was rarely a big number.

He took his head in his hands and sighed. He hated war. He was a soldier and he hated war. He was trying not to lose sight of his purpose, the reason he enlisted. To protect his comrades. To prevent others from coming home with amputations, or between four boards. To prevent the innocent from suffering, because he was certain that the Iraqis did not want this war at home.

Were they really embarking on a war against terrorism? Or had things not escaped them? He swore, rising from his bed. He was frustrated. He was tying knots in his head. It wasn't the time for him to freak out. He couldn't afford it. He had to evacuate. To get Feltman out of his head, the times he almost died, that damn bomb with teeth. He didn't want to end up with PTSD, a post-traumatic stress disorder.

Clark had a nervous chuckle. He wasn't normally the pessimistic type. He really had to pull himself together. He had to stay true to himself and not get lost. He had to be stronger than what he was going through here. He had to hold on.

* * *

_**Day 47 (11/22)** _

Clark preferred to spend his quiet time in his quarters now. It was good for him to be away for a bit of self-examination, to meditate. He was using meditation methods that he had been taught in Asia. His relaxation session was interrupted by a drumming at his door:

"Kent! We've got work to do!" Wayne shouted, loud enough for him to hear it.

He sighed and equipped himself in a hurry, before joining his team in the Humvee. As soon as they were all on board, Wayne gave his briefing:

"A guy came out at a busy intersection with a vest of explosives. There are already three teams on site to maintain a security perimeter. They're just waiting for us. "

"We don't have any more information about the vest ?" he asked.

"No, but we'll have to act quickly. "

Kent held back a sigh. It was a very bad idea to ask a deminer for speed. It was as if staying close to a bomb made them happy.

When they got out of the vehicle, they could all see that the perimeter was perfectly secure. They walked towards the person in charge, Colonel Campbell. They already knew each other.

"Okay, so to summarize, we have a guy with explosives in the middle of a crossroads, completely out in the open. You, you're going to assess the danger posed by these explosives. "

Kent took a look at the man in front of them. They had set up a 25-metre security perimeter. It seemed right to him. He couldn't see exactly what kind of explosive it was, or how many charges. He turned to the Colonel.

"Did you give him a radio? "

The men around them looked at him as if he had two heads.

"Well, no, what for? "

Kent pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Good. I need to talk to him so he can show me the whole bomb. Can someone lend me his radio? "

There was a long silence before Jordan handed over his radio.

"Give it back to me, huh. "

Kent smiled slightly and then walked a few steps outside the security perimeter. His advance caused the man in front of him to react.

Kent looked at him in detail before talking to him. The man was an Iraqi man in his forties, maybe more. Bearded and wearing classic Iraqi clothes, he was far too terrified to be a suicide bomber. He was probably a hostage. Kent tuned the radio, showed it to the man and then threw it. He chose to speak Arabic without attempting American: there was little chance that the man would understand his language.

" _Sir, I need you to turn around slowly._ "

He accompanied his words with gestures. The man begged and cried.

" _Help me, I didn't do anything._ "

Kent nodded. He couldn't hear much of what he was saying from where he was, but he could easily guess.

" _I'll help you, but you have to do as I say._ "

The man hesitated before executing himself. Kent looked carefully at the vest and spotted three locks. It was clear that the man was not wearing the vest voluntarily. He turned to his superiors:

"The perimeter is correct, but this guy is trapped by the vest. He cannot remove it on his own. Explosive level... looks like C4. We'd have to go back another 50 meters. "

Colonel pesta.

"Damn it! Well, you're gonna have to go anyway. "

Kent pretended not to understand what was implied.

"That was the plan all along, wasn't it? "

The Colonel seemed upset.

"If it had been C4, yes, but if it was a more unstable explosive, no. "

Kent made an immeasurable effort to hold back all the insults he had on the tip of his tongue. The Colonel would have been willing to shoot the explosives to "defuse" the bomb and kill the man taken hostage and possibly injure people. His anger must have been visible as Wayne came to lay a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Go ahead. We'll cover you. Stay in constant radio contact. "

Kent nodded his head. He headed to the Humvee to retrieve his protective gear and equipment. He also retrieved a large padlock clip. He adjusted his radio helmet and walked into the blast zone.

He walked very slowly. He hated that damn outfit. He walked slowly towards the man, who looked at him with hopeful eyes. He really wanted to be able to help him. Kent looked around. He was already stressed. If just one dead man was good enough for the terrorists, they could blow him up now.

"I'm five meters away. The detonator's activated with a phone. "

" **Copy**. " Wayne replied.

When he was in front of the man, he put down his equipment. He could see he was panicked.

" _My name is Clark. I'm here to take this vest off for you. What's your name?_ "

" _My name is Milad. I have a wife and two little girls, please help me..._ "

He started crying again. Kent couldn't concentrate if the man had hiccups crying. He grabbed his pliers.

" _I need you to be brave, Milad. I need you to stay calm._ "

He saw Milad trying to calm down and he attacked the first lock. He broke it once, twice, then three times. Impossible to open them. They were steel padlocks, not iron. The pliers were useless to him. He threw it next to him.

"I can't take the padlocks away from him. "

He saw Milad close his eyes.

" **It's not a priority to take the vest off him, Sergeant!** "

Kent ticked when he heard Colonel Campbell's voice. It annoyed him.

"Isn't it a priority because he's not an American? "

Kent sketched a smile on Milad's face to reassure him. Well, he wasn't sure he could see it through his helmet, but if it would help him relax... He examined the connections of the first charges.

" **You've got it Kent, now do your job!** "

He would much rather hear Wayne's cold voice than some asshole who was getting on his nerves. He ignored it and spoke to the Iraqi.

" _Tell me, how did it go?_ "

He walked around Milad, just remembering that he was being watched by everyone, that anyone could pull out a phone and call, and that those who could save his life he was slowly getting on his nerves. Milad took a deep breath as Kent was clearing the wires better, and then he said to him:

" _Men. They set a trap for me in a street..._ "

Milad started crying again. Kent put a comforting pressure on his arm. Milad resumed.

" _They said... they would kill my family if I didn't let them... I don't want to die_... "

Kent came back in front of him as Milad began to shake.

" _I'm your best chance to get out of this, Milad. You're going to be okay. I'm going to stay with you._ "

Milad was shaking. Kent bent down to retrieve his little pliers. He was about to cut the first wires and defuse the C4 charges. He knew that without a detonator, the C4 could not explode. Normally, he would have just had to disconnect the phone from the capacitor, but today it decided to make it harder for him. He cut the first wire. At the clip, Milad was startled, surprising Kent. Everyone armed his weapon by reflex around them. As if it would help them to shoot Milad. Kent moved his pliers away to reassure him.

" _You need to calm down. I can't help you if you panic. Help me, stay calm._ "

Milad's eyes seemed tired of crying. Kent had seen men much more weepy and panicked than him.

" _Tell me about your family. What are the names of your wife and daughters?_ "

Kent was hoping this would calm him down. Usually bringing up good memories or loved ones would calm him down. Between hiccups, Milad replied:

" _My wife's name is Sabiha and my daughters Farah and Amina... They are 10 and 12 years old..._ "

He burst into tears again. Failed. Kent couldn't concentrate with a guy like that. He couldn't blame him.

" **Kent! Stop talking to him and get active!** "Campbell almost screamed.

The sudden noise of the radio scared the hostage and Kent almost got hit. He was going to get them killed, the fucking Colonel! He took a deep breath and calmly resumed:

" _Are you praying, Milad?_ "

The interested party nodded his head. He raised his hands but he stopped, crying again. He was blocking.

" _I will help you. Do it with me. Allah is great. Allah is great. In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful._ "

" **Damn you Kent, whose side are you on?! You're going to me** \- "

Kent changed the radio channel to the secondary one his unit used to use.

" _Don't stop, Milad._ "

When the channel was opened, Kent suspected that if he spoke, everyone would hear. He displayed a grin. He used Russian, one of the languages he was most comfortable with.

" _I need quiet and he yells too much. It makes the hostage panic._ "

He went back to his wires as he heard Campbell screaming like a skunk.

" _ **Copy**_. "

He smiles when he hears Wayne's voice, answering him in the same language. He didn't know what the Major was doing, but a few seconds later, he could no longer hear Campbell's voice.

Kent could easily ignore Milad's prayers. Milad had lowered his voice and made his job a lot easier.

" **Kent, we're getting more and more observers.** "

Wayne obviously didn't need to talk to him otherwise, he must have been clear with the Colonel.

"Copy. "

He got busy, noticing in passing that the work was poor in places. An amateur who had wanted to apply himself. He only had a few wires left.

" **The teams have several men in sight with phones.** "

Ok. There, the drop of sweat in his back he felt it dripping. He heard soldiers shouting. It made his stress rise and Milad stopped. Kent was almost finished.

" _When I'm done, you'll have to come with me so we can help you take your vest off. You stay close to me._ "

Milad showed him a grateful smile:

" _May Allah protect you._ "

Kent smiled back at him as he cut the last wire.

" **KENT !** "

He heard Wayne both on the radio and shouting.

"It's done! "

The phone rang at that moment. He and Milad looked relieved. Just before his helmet was splashed with blood, and he felt the impact of the bullets.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Kent! Kent! "

He heard Wayne's voice calling him as his helmet was being removed. He was in pain. He was in pain breathing. But it was a pain he could tolerate, a pain he knew. His protective clothing had been effective against bullets.

"I'm fine," he said as he was put back on his feet.

He didn't hear any more gunshots but he was still in the same place. He barely had time to keep his balance on his feet when a fist went through the air to reach his face.

"Damn traitor! Because of you, Walder, Kawalsky and Sanchez were seriously injured! "

Kent wiped the blood from his open lip. Wayne stood in front of him as everyone gathered around them.

"You don't have to hit a soldier, Colonel Campbell. "

"Hit a soldier? Did anyone see me hit a soldier? "

The Colonel looked at his men. One spoke for all of them:

"We didn't see nothing, sir. The Sergeant must have hit himself when he fell. "

Kent realized that he had knocked everyone down. Campbell leaned over Wayne.

"You're a good man, Wayne. Don't waste your talents protecting guys like him. We'll secure the perimeter and fall back. "

The group withdrew and Kent was left alone with his unit. He looked at Milad's body at their feet and bent down to retrieve the C4 charges. He could have saved him. Kent took it upon himself to ignore what he was feeling right now. He knew the body was going to be taken away by another team. When he was finished, he realized that he and Wayne were the only ones left.

"Come on in. We're going home. "

Kent stood up and followed his leader. He couldn't help it anyway.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent had been lying on his bed every chance he got. He stood there, pensive, his eyes glued to the ceiling. He had a real knack for running into assholes. And the flaw of not knowing when to shut up, or when to stay in line. He had never managed to fit in as well as the others. He was only lucky that he hadn't already been kicked out of the army because he was doing his job very well. He knew it. He shouldn't let others make him doubt his skills. Make him doubt himself. He knew who he was.

He went out of his mind when he heard the knock on his door. But there wasn't the usual shout to tell him to move. He got up and went to open the door for Wayne, dressed in a more casual outfit.

"I hear you refused a medical inspection? "

Kent didn't even give him permission to enter. Wayne authorized himself by entering and closing the door behind him.

"Yes, I don't need it. "

Wayne moved him back into the room as he walked towards him. The atmosphere between them was weird. Kent didn't know which foot to dance on. He didn't really know what Wayne thought of him now.

"You got shot. The doctors have to make sure you're not bleeding and your ribs aren't broken or cracked. "

"My ribs are fine. "

Kent said it so firmly that Wayne raised an eyebrow.

"I'd rather be sure. "

Kent looked up at the sky.

"I'm not so stupid as to lie about things like that. I've had this kind of injury before, just like you. I'm not trying to be an invincible hero, I just know I don't have anything. "

While he looked slightly upset, Wayne had a slight grin. It irritated him even more.

"I don't think that about you at all. I especially think that you're running away from all the soldiers currently in the infirmary. Campbell's team and their buddies. "

Kent turned his head away. He didn't think he was that transparent. He didn't want to run into all the guys who were after him. He turned his head back to Wayne, who was looking at him with those light blue eyes.

"Take off your shirt. I'm going to examine your wounds. I'll leave you alone about that then. "

The deminer hesitated.

"Do you have any medical training, perhaps? "

Wayne displayed that same grin. Maybe if he raised the corner of his lips a little more, it would look like half a smile.

"It must be worth yours. "

He didn't expect the Major to put that back in his head. He sighed and did what he said. He took off his T-shirt. Wayne shone the light on Kent's chest and leaned over.

He had large bruises on his right side and on his torso. Kent had been shot at least three times. Wayne ran his fingers along the ribs, very carefully, watching for Kent's reaction. Kent had completely frozen. Not because of the pain, no. But because he could feel the fingers go gently over his skin, Wayne's warm breath against him and... it was weird. He couldn't breathe normally, it really bothered him that his boss was touching him that way and yet he didn't want to tell him to stop.

It made him feel weird. It worried him a lot. Then he heard a mocking puff from Wayne that he never thought he'd hear in his life. It brought him down to earth.

"You don't have anything, but you've finally got something out of it, this protective outfit. "

Kent had once told Wayne what he thought of it, of the mine clearing pads. And at the time, Wayne's remark made him laugh. It hurt him, but it made him laugh. Wayne stood up smiling, his face just inches away from Kent's face. And that stopped him. Just so he could look at his Major's relaxed face that he rarely saw. They were so close that he could smell the smell of tobacco mixed with the smell of mentholated gum and underneath his stronger smells a hint of sweet almond. They stayed a few seconds, just like that, before Wayne turned his head away to grab his T-shirt.

"You can get dressed now. "

Kent received his garment.

"Uh...thanks," he stammered, a little lost.

Wayne nodded his head, having already put his neutral mask back on his face.

"I'm going to go, I have reports to write. "

Kent watched him walk to the door and hesitated a little before calling him out:

"Major! Are... are you going to talk about the incident with Campbell? "

In his head, he went through all the scenarios in a second where Wayne would answer him with a nasty remark, or circumvent his question, or answer in the negative. But he didn't.

"Of course. You're my responsibility now. My job is to protect you, Kent. And not just from terrorists. You're on my team. "

Wayne's tone was so confident that somehow it put a balm in his heart. Kent really needed to know that he had the support of at least one person. He nodded his head as Wayne walked through the door.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Wayne. "

Wayne gave him one last look.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Kent. "

And he stood there for a moment looking at the door after Wayne was long gone. Within minutes, Wayne had managed to completely destabilize him.

* * *

_**Day 49 (11/24)** _

Kent was hoping that the tension in the camp had eased a little. He was getting tired of being cooped up and wanted to take advantage of the fact that they weren't on a mission to spend some time in the sun. He liked the sun. It was often gray at this time of the year, so he preferred to take advantage of the light rays when they were there.

He sat down at a table, having a cup of coffee. He just watched the other soldiers exercise, play basketball, cards, or just chatting. He knew that many pairs of eyes were looking at him and many were talking about him. Nerver mind. He was just going to stand there and drink his stinking coffee.

He was thinking about this situation, with Wayne in his quarters. Three days later, he was still struggling to forget that smell and his touch. It must have been a really long time since he had seen anyone. He remembered that on his last leave, he had spent the night with several girls, but he had to admit that he hadn't been very gentlemanly at the time. But these girls knew what to expect when they went to the bars around the military bases. Few of them were looking for a lasting relationship.

He was out of his mind when Diana came and sat down in front of him with John. He straightened up, already expecting to be insulted. It wasn't the first time this had happened in the camp, when he went to eat or train in the morning. But in any case, they were the only ones who settled down to talk to him. Even Barry and Hal would run away from him and stay away on missions.

"You've really pissed everyone off, Clark. "

He was amazed at Diana's soft intonation.

"Yeah, I know. I have this effect all the time. "

John continued.

"They blame you for a lot of things, but the fact that you prayed in Arabic and guys got shot to defend you... You gave yourself the final blow. "

Clark shrugged.

"And what should I have done? Let that man panic while wearing an explosive vest ? Of all the ways I tried, this was the one that worked. And I needed him to be calmer to work. If I had to do it all over again, I would do it again! "

He drank his cup in one go and put it firmly on the table. Diana put her hand on his arm.

"Calm down. We didn't blame you. Ollie, Hal and Barry told us everything. "

Kent ran one hand over his hair.

"Wow, great. Three versions of guys who are mad at me to death. They're running away from me like the plague. "

John and Diana exchanged a look before the African-American said:

"They're not mad at you at all. They're running away from you because... "

The sniper seemed to be searching for his words. Diana completed for him:

"Because they blame themselves. "

Kent raised an eyebrow:

"They're running away from me because they blame themselves about me? Why ?! "

This time, John and Diana laughed as the deminer was totally confused. Diana replied:

"Because they didn't back you up against Campbell. They told us that too. They're the only ones who talk about it, by the way. The others play deaf and blind. "

John added:

"There's a code, when we're brothers in arms, it's that we stick together no matter what. And they didn't. "

Clark looked at them one by one. He wasn't used to being included like that. In the moment, he felt his heart swell up. His classmates didn't blame him. They just didn't know how to apologize. The more the idea came into his head, the lighter he felt. Diana and John smiled. His relief must have been on his face.

"We wanted to tell you that we were on your side too. "

Clark smiled back at them. He was so relieved all of a sudden. And he was so touched to be included. John then asked, bringing him back down to earth :

"By the way, I thought you were a Christian. "

Clark held back a laugh.

"I grew up in Kansas in a Catholic family, it's hard not to be with that! I am indeed a Christian. "

He took out his ID tags where it was marked, under his blood type, his religion: so that he could receive the last rites if he died here. They nodded their heads and Clark put it back under his T-shirt.

"And you know the Muslim prayers too ?" Diana asked.

Clark couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Not at all! I only know the first few sentences, no more. I just read the Koran. "

John laughed too.

"You read the religious text of another religion? "

Clark didn't see anything wrong with that. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes, to learn more about the culture, and also to maintain my learning of the language. "

"To learn more about the culture ?" Diana continued.

Clark nodded.

"You can get a better sense of what a person is thinking when you know what cultural background they grew up in and the impact it can have on them; when you can be able to understand them. It's not up to the Iraqis to learn English to understand us. It's up to us to learn. We are the foreigners, the occupiers of the country, the intruders. We are not at home and we should stop acting like it. "

He stepped back, realizing that he had gotten a bit carried away in his speech, a subject that was a bit sensitive for him. Diana nodded.

"I agree with your point of view. Partly because my origins are not American. "

John allowed himself a comment to lighten the mood.

"In any case, the reason couldn't have been for the invasion of your country! To find your city, you have to get completely lost because it's so hard to find. "

Diana elbowed him.

"It's because you have to know what you're looking for! And you, you're looking for lice, John. "

The sniper raised his hands.

"I would never dare. "

Clark laughed, thinking back to his own teammates as they squabbled.

"Maybe I should go to the guys and tell them I don't blame them, right? "

John and Diana refocused their attention on him and were unanimous:

"No. "

Diana then explained, under Clark's surprised gaze.

"If you go to them first they'll be even worse off. Let them come to you. "

Clark nodded.

"Okay, I'll do that. "

Diana winked at him. Then they changed the subject completely, going for the beer, which they sorely missed. Clark took advantage of the moment. It did him the world of good.

* * *

**_Day 50 (11/25)_ **

Clark had a great day. It was a rest day that did him good. Ollie, Hal and Barry had come to talk to him in the morning. He let them explain and apologize before he told them what he thought. And an hour later, over coffee, they were still spitting on Campbell's back, or Hall's back.

And then, to liven up the camp, like a lot of Sundays, there was a little basketball tournament, right on their day off. And honestly, he never thought their superiors would come and enjoy it. Stone had challenged Wayne and his team to a challenge, and since they were the right number for a team, they competed against each other.

Clark had a big smile on his face as he walked to his quarters. They had been playing all day, and playing with Wayne was something he really enjoyed. He didn't see him mingle much but it was like he was always with them. Wayne was able to fit in with amazing ease.

This guy was incredible. His presence had strengthened their group cohesion, and Stone's as well. Since Palmer had been returned to Stone's command, the tension in his team had been palpable. But after a day like that, Palmer had melted into the group. And it had been good for all of them.

He went back to his room and took a quick shower before going to bed. He was still thinking about his evening. Wayne. He was thinking about Wayne. He was the one he had spent the evening with. Just talking. About everything and nothing, under the stars. Him looking up at the sky and Wayne smoking next to him. They had talked about their childhood, about baseball, American soccer, the languages they had learned, their travels around the world. Their lives were so different and so much in common at the same time.

He heard knocking at the door. Clark got up, wondering if it was Wayne, and went to open it. Everything happened quickly. The first knock hit him hard and he fell backwards as soldiers entered his quarters. Stunned, he heard one of them put the lock on the door and two others grabbed him and dragged him into the main room.

Clark was dazed. But he was also a soldier. He knew how to react quickly. He grabbed a soldier's arm and used it as a support to deliver a precise blow to his throat, neutralizing him. The second man retaliated with a punch.

"Damn it, hold him down! "

Clark, alert with adrenaline, prevented a third soldier from attacking him while a fourth helped his first comrade, who was put out of action. The man holding him grabbed his left arm to make an arm wrench. Clark got back on his feet and ran backwards, causing them to hit the bed and fall on his back. Clark felt his head hit the nose of the other soldier, who released him, holding back a groan of pain.

He freed himself in time to dodge the third guy's blow and they built up hand-to-hand combat. Clark cashed in as he gave, without flinching. Until the guy with the broken nose grabbed him by the neck and started strangling him. Then he saw the guy in front of him draw his gun. Clark's heart missed a beat. They were going to kill him.

He struggled as hard as he could to get them off him, desperately trying to get to the guy's eyes or ears, scratching the back of his neck he was trying to grab. If he didn't get out now he was finished. He then took a violent rifle butt and the man dropped him as he coughed to catch his breath, half stunned. He crawled to the ground as he heard the men gathering around him. Four soldiers.

"We're going to kill you. "

He reached the height of his storage cabinet. He waited for one of them to bend down on top of him to grab the handle and hit the man with the drawer.

"Dumbass! "

Clark took a sole in his face. There was too much blood in front of his eyes and his head was spinning. He felt that they were grabbing him and this time they were immobilizing his head and arms. The next moment, he received the first blows, under the jubilation of his torturers. He did not give them the pleasure of shouting in pain. That's what they were waiting for.

Clark was beaten. For a long time. Luckily, he fell unconscious long before the end.


	8. Week 8

# Week 8

* * *

_**Day 51 (11/26)** _

"Kent! Get out of there! "

Clark heard Wayne's screams vaguely. It sounded more like a distant hubbub, but he knew his leader was pounding on his door, shouting.

"We've got work to do! "

He couldn't open his eyes. Dried blood was sticking to his eyelids and he had pain in one of his eyes. In fact, he was aching all over. He coughed slightly, contracting his muscles as he realized he was having trouble breathing.

"Kent! Open the fucking door! "

He could hear Wayne pounding on the doorknob. Clark remembered what had happened to him. He'd really gotten his ass kicked. He was almost amazed that he could be conscious. He managed to open one eye and he tried to see towards the door. He was face down and unable to turn around. He was in too much pain to move.

"Kent! "

He recognized Barry's voice. He could hear someone trying to break down the door. He needed help. He tried to talk. He could feel his lips opening with difficulty, but only a groan came out of his dry throat. Then the door flew open. Wayne stepped angrily into the room.

"Bloody hell. "

Clark sensed that he was being turned around. He saw Wayne's face. Wayne took his head in his hands and seemed to look at his wounds while Clark felt like he could breathe better now that he was free of his weight. He coughed while Wayne was already screaming:

"Allen! Go get me a doctor! "

Barry couldn't hold a curse when he saw Clark. He ran out of the barracks. Wayne leaned over to Clark again. He tried to talk to him.

"I'm… sorry... "

Wayne shook his head. Clark could see the anxiety on the Major's face.

"It's going to be okay, Clark. I'm going to take care of you. "

Oliver stepped in with Hal.

"What's going on? "

Wayne turned to them:

"Go tell Jones to send another team. Tell him and no one else about the incident, is that clear? Don't talk to anyone on the way. "

"Yes, sir. "

They left immediately. Wayne turned his attention to Clark. He had only one eye to admire the gray eyes Wayne had now. A look so silvery, without a single glint of blue in it, that it was staring at him. A look so deep.

"Tell me who did this to you. "

Clark saw the faces again. Four faces. He tried to speak again, but his dry throat stopped him and he coughed.

"I'll make them pay for this, Clark. I promise you that I will. "

After that, Clark was no longer conscious.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

He emerged with some difficulty. He could recognize the effects of the sedatives he had been given. He opened his eyes with difficulty and realized that he was in the camp infirmary.

"He's awake," said Hal.

He saw that Wayne was there, along with Barry and Oliver. His whole team came up on top of him at once.

"Give him some air. "

Wayne's tone was irrevocable. They all stepped back to give him some space. Clark tried to straighten up and saw that his right arm was in a splint.

"Damn... "

His tongue was a little pasty, too.

"The shoulder was dislocated. A few days of immobilization and you'll be fine, " Wayne exposed him as he stepped forward.

His head hurt, too. And his field of vision was restricted. He was about to touch his face when Wayne put his hand on his arm.

"It's better not to touch. You're hurt badly. "

Clark was already getting tired of having information dripping out of him.

"I can get a complete summary if I don't have a doctor," he asked with difficulty.

He tried to smile sarcastically. Hal was the only one who smiled slightly. The situation must have been serious enough for them to be so serious.

"A doctor already examined you this morning. You have severe bruising on your face and ribs. You have a concussion, your left eye is swollen. Broken nose and a six-point open left arch. "

Clark thinks he must have looked really bad. But he smiles nonetheless.

"At least I'm okay. "

He was the only one smiling. Wayne's look made him lose his positivity.

"It's not fun, Kent. You were lucky you were tough enough. "

Clark saw the fury in Wayne's silver eyes. A gaze whose blue was still absent. A look that revealed incredible anger. And in the moment, Kent was afraid. For a moment, he realized how dangerous the man in front of him could be, really dangerous. Wayne turned his head away to turn to the others.

"Leave us alone. "

No one dared to protest. Clark wasn't in a single room, there weren't any here. He only knew that the others had gone a few yards away, where they could hear without being seen behind the screens.

"Who did this to you? "

He was expecting the question. He had had almost a whole night to think about what would happen once we found out. Well, not a whole night. A few hours, maybe. He must have been unconscious for a long time. He was getting lost. He had trouble concentrating.

"I don't remember. "

That's what he decided to answer. That was the best thing to do. He saw Wayne get closer to him.

"You're lying. "

Clark shrugged. Wayne continued:

"You can tell me. You'll be protected. We can't transfer you because the General wants to keep this in-house. But I can protect you here. You're not afraid to report them. "

Clark held back his smile. "In-house". If the story stayed in-house, things would be handled internally. He'd figured it wasn't going to be written down. An incident like that was a stain on the army. Soldiers attacking other soldiers from the same camp. They didn't want the military police on their backs.

"I don't remember who it was. "

He saw the murderous look Wayne was giving him right now, clenching his fists.

"Stop lying to me, Clark. "

He backed away from the scene due to his surprise. Wayne's tone was vibrant. He was really angry. He had to hold himself down pretty hard not to express that kind of rage. And even though he was impressed by all this, he didn't change his position. He couldn't do that. Clark shouldn't turn the other soldiers in. He knew it would make things worse, even if he wanted them to pay.

"I don't know anything. "

Another lie. He saw that Wayne knew he was lying. He saw him grit his teeth and then pull back. Clark was sure he was bubbling inside.

"I'm going to find them, with or without your help. "

And Wayne left. Clark wondered if he had made a mistake or not. But his instincts told him that in any case, his fate would probably be better than that of his executioners.

* * *

_**Day 52 (11/27)** _

When he opened his eyes the next day, Barry and Oliver were there. Clark hadn't really had a chance to talk to them, because after the doctor's visit, Colonel Jones had come. Only to inform him that the case was internal, that Clark was not to make a report or file a complaint, but his superior promised him that the men who had done this to him would pay.

At the time, it really disgusted Clark, that this is the way things are going, that serious incidents are being buried. How do you discipline the ranks if there are no sentences afterwards? He didn't know Jones. But he knew Wayne. He knew that even if the Major was angry with him, he would keep his word. That's the way he was.

He went out of his mind when Hal took over for Barry and Oliver. Those two had been watching over him all afternoon and night. And not once had they left the medical building. Just like him, they had been cut off from what was going on in the camp. No one but the Colonel had passed by, not even Wayne.

So Hal was the only one with recent information. When he arrived fully equipped like his colleagues, Clark knew that Wayne still thought he was in danger. But he might be safer in the daytime, so Wayne had to see fit to put on a single man.

"Oh man, thanks, we couldn't take it anymore," Barry said.

He and Oliver hadn't slept in a long time. They greeted Clark and Hal and left. Hal retrieved one of the chairs put there for the other two soldiers and sighed.

"You look exhausted," said Clark.

Hal had a slight grin on his face.

"I've been stuck to Wayne all day. "

Clark made a slight grin.

"Then I understand your head better. "

Hal allowed himself to laugh.

"It must be much prettier than yours! "

Clark grumbled. He knew that part of his face was still very swollen and painful and that he had almost lost an eye. And then some. These guys really hadn't missed him.

"How's it going out there? "

Hal shrugged his shoulders, looking serious again.

"It's shit. I don't think I've ever seen the Major so angry. It's tense out there. The noises are going fast. We tried to keep the incident quiet, but... The soldiers suspect we're hiding something from them. It could be dangerous. They've all been on edge for a while, but now... "

Hal sighed. Clark felt really bad. He felt guilty. He couldn't help himself. Hal continued:

"I don't think we're going to be able to keep the story quiet for long. But Wayne wants to do justice. He spent all of his time going through the mission reports to find out who was there and who wasn't. He was always trying to find out who was there. He eliminates missing soldiers and there... we know pretty much who had the opportunity to attack you. He will find out who did this to you, even if you don't say anything. "

Clark looked away. Maybe he'd better talk, if it wasn't too late.

"Do you think I should report them," he asked after a period of reflection.

Hal glanced at the barrel of his gun and sighed.

"Honestly, I don't know. Talking would make you a rat and make you more likely to be hated. Not saying anything protects you a little, even if no one knows you're covering for these guys. On the other hand, it does get you in Wayne's face. "

Somehow that thought made him smile.

"I didn't think he'd react this way," Clark admitted.

Hal smiled.

"Wayne may be a bit of a sociopath, but he's strangely protective of his men. Besides, he's someone who likes to see justice done. Divert him will only give your attackers a slight reprieve. Wayne saw your defensive wounds. He's going to examine everyone from every angle. "

Clark remained silent, trying to remember who he had really hit and who he had really hit so badly that he left marks. Indeed, some of them would be hurt. Hal continued:

"He's also looking for your keys. Those jerks locked the door as they left. We couldn't find them around the barracks, so maybe they kept them. "

Clark raised an eyebrow as he looked at Hal. He hadn't thought about it at all.

"Maybe they wanted to lock me up to keep me from calling for help. "

Hal shook his head.

"Not very smart to take on one of the camp's only deminers. "

Clark smiled another smile.

"Not very smart to beat someone up. "

Hal laughed.

"That's for sure! Unfortunately for us, assholes are a majority in this world. "

His smile got bigger. Clark thought that he was really lucky to have comrades like them to be there. In the past, his fate would have been much worse.

He recovers in bed, suddenly feeling another dizzy spell. He was really tired. Hal noticed his exhaustion and winked at him. Clark was being watched. Nothing was going to happen to him. He thanked Hal with a nod and succumbed to fatigue.

* * *

_**Day 54 (11/29)** _

"Okay. Three, two, one, go! "

Clark pressed the card against his forehead. This game was totally stupid, he knew it. But it was just passing the time, and it was pretty funny.

"You go first, Ollie!" Hal said.

Lantern looked at them one by one, thinking. Clark smiled. He had just discovered what Indian poker was, or at least one of its variations. Because now Clark was convinced that they weren't really playing by the rules. The three of them had a card on their foreheads, and they were having fun betting. The biggest card won the whole thing, but you had to choose blindly, because you could only see the other players' cards.

"Starting bet, three .22 Long Rifle bullets. "

Clark reflects. Hal had a 10, and Oliver had a queen.

"I'm in. "

Oliver squinted.

"Me too. "

Hal made a grimace as he looked at him.

"Even though your head is in better shape, I can't tell what you're thinking! "

Clark winked at him from his valid side.

"I don't think that's going to help. "

Hal grunted.

"Well, well, well, I'll raise you two more 9mm bullets! "

Clark smiled.

"I'm going down! "

Oliver pesta.

"Rah shit! "

He and Hal stared at each other. Oliver made up his mind a minute later.

"I'm in! "

They all threw away their cards and Clark was relieved to see that he too had a 10. Hal swore.

"But it's not true! Twice you've done this to me, Ollie! "

The blond guy answered with a big smile.

"I can't help it if I'm better than you! "

He retrieved his balls and Hal dealt the cards. They licked the back of the card and stuck it to their foreheads. Not very hygienic, but it was fun. Clark looked at the 8 from Arrow and the 9 from Lantern. The middle. What he hated to see in this game.

"It's your turn to start, Clark! "

He didn't have to show too much hesitation in front of them. He did, however, give himself a few seconds to think before betting.

"Okay, two 9mm bullets! "

Oliver and Hal looked at him and smiled:

"Wow, you're starting out strong! The Man of Steel is obviously not shy! I double! "

Okay, so if Ollie was so confident, Clark must have really had a low card. He had to fold again in the next round. Well, he wasn't having any luck there!

"I'll follow you! "

Hal put the ammunition down when they heard Barry coming. He was surprised to find them like that, and then burst out laughing.

"You guys are ridiculous," he laughed.

Ollie folded his arms.

"Hey, it's serious what's going on here! "

Clark and Hal smiled broadly at Arrow's serious face. Barry wiped his eyes and pulled himself together. He looked at them for a moment before pointing the bullets at the bed.

"You know you're not normally allowed to take ammunition from the armory? "

They looked at all the bullets. Clark shrugged his shoulders, Ollie looked up, and Hal said:

"Not seen, not taken! Are you going to denounce us? "

Barry let out a sigh of exasperation and pushed Hal with his arm to sit next to him.

"No, I've had my fill of conflict. I had come to tell you that the matter was settled. "

Clark straightened up. Hal and Oliver reached out. Barry resumed:

"Wayne found the people who did this to you. He made them give in and they finally confessed. They all applied for transfer with immediate effect to different camps, the most rotten in the country. The General hastened to approve their request. You probably won't run into them again, Clark. "

Clark nodded his head. He was disappointed that the others were doing so well. Hal shook his head.

"And that's it? That's the only punishment they got? "

Barry made a grimace.

"Well... yeah. But before that, they had a long one-on-one with Wayne. I don't know what he told them but... they looked like they were freaked out. I would be, too, if I were them. Anyway, it's over. When are you going to be up and running again? "

"Within a couple of days, normally," Clark replied.

"That's what he managed to negotiate, " Ollie added.

Barry nodded.

"Well, I hope you're going to be on the hook, because Wayne seems to be in a bad mood all the time. Don't add to it. "

Barry got up from bed while Clark nodded his head.

"Well, that's not all, but I have to go. Debriefing in an hour guys, don't forget! "

The Flash greeted them and left. Clark then looked at the balls and cards in front of him and dropped the one on his forehead. He didn't really have the heart to play anymore.

* * *

**_Day 56 (12/01)_ **

Clark put his hand in a visor when he came out of the infirmary. The sun was already hitting hard in the morning and he closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth on his skin. He loved the sun. He reopened his eyes after a few seconds and then decided to go back to his quarters.

When he found himself in front of his barracks door, he felt his chest tighten. He thought it was really unfair that his attackers were doing so well. He didn't hold a grudge, far from it, but he would have liked justice to be fairer. And he didn't feel that it was, despite the fact that Wayne seemed to place the same importance on justice as he did.

He sighed and opened the door. Nothing had been cleaned up or put away. Everything had remained as it had been after his assault. His things were scattered all over the place, his belongings were broken and there was a little blood everywhere. The floor was still soaked with blood.

"What are you doing here? "

Clark let out a shout of surprise and turned to Wayne holding his chest.

"Damn it! You could be less discreet," he let go at once.

Wayne's gray eyes called him back and he remembered that he had asked a question.

"I've been declared fit, Major. "

Wayne tilted his head slightly to the side.

"What are you doing here? "

Clark frowned, not understanding the question.

"Uh... these are my quarters. "

"Not anymore. Colonel Jones has assigned you to another barracks. We'll be sharing my quarters. "

Clark was totally offended.

"What?! What the hell did I do?! "

Wayne raised an eyebrow.

"Your quarters must remain in this state until the investigator finishes his work. If the case doesn't make it to the top, there must still be a traceability, just to be on the safe side. Colonel Jones and I agreed that it was unwise to leave you alone. ""

Clark folded his arms.

"I don't need a babysitter," he whistled, looking at him with a nasty look on his face.

Wayne stepped towards him. His gaze was already threatening, but his posture was even more so.

"Are you questioning orders, Sergeant? "

Clark had a shiver down his spine. Whose side was this guy on? His instincts were telling him not to push Wayne's boundaries.

"No, Major. "

Wayne stepped back and left the quarters. Clark felt in that moment stripped of his free will and freedom: he was more than ever a victim of injustice.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

He laid his things on his bed with some anger. Swinging would be a more accurate word. He dropped himself on the bed and looked at the room. Wayne had made room for him to store his belongings and since the Major had nothing extra of his own, it must not have taken much effort to tidy up.

He sighed and began to put his things away. They were going to end up stepping on each other, sharing this room together. Not that it was the loss of modesty that worried him, because in the army it didn't exist anymore, but being with his superior... it was a huge discomfort. Especially when that superior was Bruce Wayne.

Clark felt his chest tighten with apprehension. He knew he was not going to be able to relax in his presence. If he was having a good time with the Major before, he didn't really know how to dance with him. He didn't know how to behave with Wayne, who was gentle in his presence, kind, smiling and suddenly angry with him.

Did he have to try to defuse the conflict before it broke out? He had doubts. He knew how to do it on physical bombs, but metaphorical bombs... He passed a hand over his skull. His hair had grown several millimeters long and he would soon have to shorten it again before it was no longer legal.

His thoughts turned back to Wayne. He had never shared so much complicity with another soldier, at least not in this way. With Wayne, it was more... special. It was privileged, too. He knew that Wayne didn't behave that way with everyone. Maybe he should try to look at it in a positive way, that Wayne was trying to protect him but... Damn it! He didn't need him for that!

Clark walked to the door with a determined step, determined to protest this state of affairs once again. Even if he had to sleep somewhere else, he preferred to do it with the other soldiers rather than Wayne! He felt that this decision would further ruin the image the soldiers had of him and he didn't need that as a bonus.

He opened the door and all his thoughts of revolt against Wayne were gone when he saw all the commotion outside. The soldiers were running around and Kent soon spotted Diana in the distance. He ran towards her.

"What's going on? "

She turned towards him and pushed him aside to let a vehicle pass.

"The Westford base camp was attacked. We're on the warpath. You need to get your gear fast! "

Clark nodded his head and headed back to the barracks with her. Their base was the closest to Westford. They were the direct reinforcements. They would surely be deployed.

He put on his bulletproof vest first and quickly equipped himself with the rest, finishing with his helmet after making sure that his M4 was operational and well attached. When they were outside again, Jones ordered them to take up second line positions in front of the main gate. He did so. He then watched the vehicles move around them in a defensive posture as the Humvees brought up reinforcements.

Clark then spotted Wayne getting into one of them, in full sniper gear, including camouflage. He also saw Stewart and Queen get into other Humvees and walk through the door in the same outfit. The others needed snipers. Clark didn't really understand why, but he knew that with these men they would be served.

Stressed, tense but alert, he held his position facing the door. All his comrades were as tense as he was, fearing another attack. He knew that from now on, if the doors opened again, it would be either to let their vehicles come back, or because it had been forced. Whatever the probability of the worst happening, he had to be ready. His conversation with Wayne would have to wait a while.


	9. Week 9

# Week 9

* * *

**_Day 59 (12/04)_ **

Clark made a face while drinking his coffee and finished his plate of oatmeal. He was looking forward to the opportunity to have a proper breakfast again.

"So, how's your new roommate working out? " Hal asked in front of him.

He shrugged.

"No idea. It's not like we've talked since they all got back from Westford. He collapsed from fatigue. "

Hal nodded his head and continued to eat. Barry continued:

"Ollie's asleep too. They must have only had a few hours of sleep, if they could get any. Their mission must be secret, because no one knows what it was about. "

Arthur, sitting next to Clark, put down his cup.

"Sniper says offensive operation. Westford had to retaliate in a more targeted and discreet manner. "

Diana pushed her plate back from her.

"Yes, but they still stayed for three days. Operations rarely take that long. "

Clark shook his head negatively.

"Arthur is probably right. Maybe their operation wasn't nearby. "

They all remained silent for a moment, pensive. They too hadn't slept much in the last few days, but certainly more than the snipers on the mission.

He finished his plate and stood up. With Wayne absent to lead his team, they had all been under Stone's command. Stone's orders were not specific, but from now on, when there was a particular outside intervention, they had an extra escort. And in half an hour, they were responsible for escorting a convoy to Westford.

He went back to his room and was careful not to wake Wayne. Finally, given his state of fatigue, there was little chance of that happening. He glanced at the sniper. Wayne slept on the bed on the outside, technically the one assigned to Clark. He thought it would be better to leave him the more accessible bed in case Wayne came home in the middle of the night. He congratulated himself for doing the right thing. Besides, it was more convenient.

Clark took a moment to look at Wayne's face, turned towards him while he was fast asleep. He could see the tired features on his sleeping face and the growth of his beard. If Wayne had taken a quick shower on the way home, he hadn't taken the time to do anything else. Clark could largely understand him.

He folded the sheet over the Major a little and got dressed. Seeing him like that, it seemed hard to be angry with him anymore. Maybe he could get used to it, living with Wayne, if Wayne put his mind to it. Anyway, it was only temporary. Once the investigation was unofficially closed, he would be alone again.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent had kept his finger on the side of the trigger on his M4 all the way to the track. He wasn't the only one who was tense and fortunately their trip went smoothly. There was always a risk of ambushes on the way, or mines on the roads. In the Humvee, he was with Allen, Curry and Prince. Allen drove the vehicle, Curry was at the heavy gun, Prince in the back and he in the front.

The front walls of Westford had been completely destroyed. Kent examined them from a distance as he stepped out of the vehicle, easily recognizing the damage from an explosion. A very large explosion. He then took his eyes off the wall to see the rest of the base. In three days it had already recovered quickly, but the damage from the attack could easily be seen.

They all gathered around Stone as their main escort mission was completed. He gave them new instructions:

"There is still a lot of debris to remove and tents to put back up. Go help. Kent. "

The others left, and Kent stood by for further orders.

"I was told that the walls had been blown up with a bomb. Their bomb squad is gathering the debris and studying it. Go help them. "

"Yes, sir. "

Kent walked to the tent assigned for this purpose. When he passed it, he found himself in the midst of many boxes of debris and only two soldiers. One of them, a tall African-American, much stronger than he was, immediately dismissed him:

"We don't need any distractions go away ! "

Kent did not take his anger personally, he knew he was not the cause of it.

"I'm a demineur, maybe I can help. "

The two bomb squad members stopped. The second, a slender blond and a little shorter than them, walked towards him.

"A deminer, huh? So yeah, we're going to need some help. Experts in the field are scarce these days. "

Kent nodded his head and untied his M4 and put it next to him. He could see the other bomb squad members were on edge. He glanced at the tables in front of him. On the two large tables lined up were many burnt debris and on another table, at the back, a few small pieces of plastic. Needless to say, these were the few pieces they suspected were part of the bomb.

"Well, it's not complicated, we inspect what's on the table, we take out another crate and what may be part of the bomb goes on this table. "

Kent nodded his head.

"What did the explosion look like? " he asked to get an idea of what he was looking for.

The reaction to his question was synchronous: both men sighed long and hard. The blond man replied:

"No idea. Clyde and I weren't there and no one could agree on the description of the explosion. Whether it was the noise, the smell, the flames,... "

Kent sighed long and hard.

"We're leaving with nothing now. "

He then received a big pat on the back from Clyde, which he found hard to take.

"You've got it. I'll make us some coffee. We're going to need it. "

Kent nodded his head and turned to the blond man. The blond man reached out his hand:

"By the way, my name is Stephen. "

He shook his hand back:

"Clark. Let's find the pieces of this shit! "

The two men smiled at each other and then went to work.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

A puzzle. A real puzzle. They had spent all day on it and a good part of their evening. And they hadn't sorted out half of what they had. And the more time passed, the less they saw the end of their sorting.

"Guys, we're out of coffee. "

Stephen waved the empty thermos in front of him, a jaded look on his face. Clark dropped his head against the table and Clyde leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. Clark, with his head against the table, asked the fateful question of the day:

"Do we draw straws? "

"Yeah. "

"Go ahead. "

Clark took the three different sized iron rods from the debris and reached out his hand to Clyde, the closest to him.

"Oh yes! I didn't do it. "

He then reached out his hand to Stephen.

"Damn it. "

Clark and Clyde had a huge smile on their faces.

"Look on the bright side, Steve, you've already got the thermos in your hands. "

Stephen fingered his black colleague.

"Fuck you," he said as he stepped out of the tent, with the other two looking on in amusement.

Clark and Clyde glanced at each other again and sighed and went back to work.

* * *

_**Day 60 (12/05)** _

The three deminers had taken turns during the night. Their mission was one of the base's priorities and their tents had been authorized to continue working with light. Very little light. And with such a large difference in light, their eyes tired even more quickly. So they made rounds to rest. Clyde had slept first, making a corner for himself to sleep in the tent. Clark had been the second and Stephen had followed.

They didn't get much sleep, but they couldn't really afford to spend the whole night. Major Stone had been away for a while with the convoy they were escorting and they had taken another soldier to replace him. They had agreed that he would go back with the next escorted convoy.

"Can you pass me some coffee?" Stephen asked.

Clark threw the thermos at him.

"We still have about ten crates left. How is it possible that there are still so many?! " he exclaimed in front of all the pieces in front of him.

Clyde rubbed his eyes and replied:

"Well, the bomb was in one of our vehicles. The convoy literally jumped over the walls, the other vehicles with it. "

And in there it also indicated the men on board.

"I'm sorry for your comrades. "

Clark sensed tension in the atmosphere. Stephen shrugged his shoulders.

"We have lost ten men and we have about fifteen wounded. We're lucky it's not more serious. "

Clark then dared to ask another question:

"Were you stormed after that? "

Clyde laid his brown eyes on him:

"Our boys didn't give them a chance. "

And after that, they had surely mounted an expedition to carry out reprisals. Clark was beginning to put the pieces of the story together in his head. The attack had been really well carried out. Prepared meticulously beforehand. Then suddenly, Clark felt a shiver run down his spine as memories came to the surface.

"Were there teeth in the debris? "

Stephen and Clyde looked at each other.

"No, not that we know of," Stephen replied. "It's a question... quite a peculiar one. "

Clark sighed, suddenly feeling paranoid.

"Sorry. It's just that... a little over a month ago, my unit ended up with a vehicle bomb too. I was wondering if it was the same guy. "

The other two bomb squad members took another look. Clyde approached him and bent down over his uniform.

"Kent. Clark Kent," he said, reflecting.

"Is that you, the Man of Steel?" Stephen asked as he approached.

Clark scratched the back of his head, suddenly embarrassed.

"I'm not sure that the nickname suits me very well," he said with a smile to hide his embarrassment.

His face froze when he saw the serious expression on Stephen's face. Clark tightened up immediately.

"I was in the Green Zone when they brought you back. The whole hospital was talking about you! The bomb squad guy who saved his unit by defusing a bomb when he was shot! Your story spread faster than herpes in a university club! "

Clark and Clyde laughed at the comparison. He was relieved that the other bomb-disposal officer took it that way. He hadn't really made many friends lately.

"I want to add that Steve didn't believe your story! Nor did I, for that matter," Clyde added smiling, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I have to admit that the version we're telling sounds really cool, but from my point of view not really! You still don't believe it? "

Clyde changed his expression. He became serious again.

"All the bomb squad received a report about the bomb you defused. Your report, right? Creepy. That's what made us believe your story. Too disgusting to be made up. Afterwards, whether you got shot during it or not, we don't care, just the teeth thing... Bwah! "

Clyde looked disgusted and brushed the conversation aside with a wave of his hand:

"Well, let's change the subject before I throw up! "

Stephen and Clark exchanged an amused look before resuming their work. These guys were pretty cool.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Time dilation. Clark felt like a victim of it. Or even a time distortion problem, where time would suddenly accelerate or slow down. He felt like he was in an episode of Doctor Who. Time was passing too fast for their coffee rations, and the outside world. Inside the tent, everything was slow, their sorting, their progress. Several times, Clyde and Stephen's direct superior had come to yell at them. They had to work faster.

Stephen obviously came to the same conclusions as him at the same time when he came back and served them another coffee:

"I think we have enough elements to identify a little bit the bomb. I suggest that one of us focus on the debris set aside and the other two continue sorting. "

Clark nodded his head and Clyde raised his thumb.

"We're drawing straws ?" he asked.

"Yeah. "

"Go ahead. "

Stephen and Clyde pulled a metal rod. He expressed his joy:

"Yes! Change is mine! "

"You're a lucky bastard, Clyde," Clark replied with a look of displeasure.

The African-American walked to the table reserved for him with a dance step.

"Yeah, and good luck sorting out the rednecks! "

Clark grunted as he leaned over the debris, and Stephen flipped him off. At least maybe they would move faster.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark was scrutinizing a burnt piece of plastic when he heard Clyde swear. He and Stephen turned their heads towards the big black man, who seemed upset.

"Something's wrong ?" Clark asked.

Clyde nodded his head, still staring at the pieces of the bomb he had gathered.

"Come and see. "

The other two bomb squad members approached. On the table, Clyde had gathered the pieces of a detonator and a larger box that had exploded. It probably contained the explosive. But it was rather small.

"It's the wrong box," said Stephen.

Clyde shook his head negatively.

"It's the right box. There's only one. "

Stephen folded his arms across his chest.

"Then it's not TATP. Too small an amount for the explosion. "

"Same with TNT. "

There was then a long moment of silence. These were the most likely explosives they could find here. Clark and Stephen then took a room each. They knew how they could find the explosive. They felt it. Beyond the smell of burning plastic, they could smell a faint odor of...

"C4. "

He and Stephen had spoken with one voice. Clark dropped the piece of plastic as if he had burned it. The C4. Again. The U.S. military had a monopoly of it in this country, and the explosive was easily detectable at customs and guarded buildings. It was very difficult to move it around the country without the Americans knowing about it. What the hell was that shit again?! A small amount, okay, but it wasn't the first time he came across it. How could it happen that they got caught up in their own equipment?!

"I thought the same thing... And considering the size of the box... "

Clyde didn't finish his sentence. He let out a long sigh before resuming:

"Didn't you ever once think that maybe you were on the side of the bad guys? "

His question remained unanswered in the void. There was no need to answer. Clark felt bad. He couldn't say exactly what he was feeling, but he felt bad. And so were the others. He was out of his mind when the tent flap suddenly opened:

"Kent! Get your stuff, we're leaving in 5 minutes! "

The intervention was so quick that he identified Wayne more by his voice than by his face. He sighed. He hadn't even had time to protest. He retrieved his things, reattached his M4 and turned to the other two, who remained with the same look of spite he had.

"Pay attention to you guys. "

"You too, Clark. "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark had been silent all the way home, pensive. Much too pensive to be on his guard and in case of trouble, he knew it. When he got out of his vehicle, he acted more out of automatism than anything else, and then he went to his quarters. Clark got rid of all his equipment and then went to take a shower: he needed a shower to clear his head and for hygiene purposes. It gave him time to put his ideas back in place, and to keep his goals in mind: to do his job as a deminer, to prevent other people from dying because of the explosions.

When he came out of the bathroom, he was almost surprised to find Wayne. It's true that in the last few days they had barely crossed paths here. He congratulated himself internally for getting dressed before going out into the room. His eyes met Wayne's. The shade of blue in his irises had returned and Clark realized that Wayne was in a better mood than the time they had spoken. So was he.

"You look troubled. "

His intonation was so neutral that Clark was a little lost, but slightly defensive.

"Is that a question or a statement? "

Wayne stared at him for a moment before answering:

"A statement. "

Clark frowned slightly.

"So it doesn't really require an answer. "

Against all odds, Wayne displayed an amused grin, which had the effect of relaxing him.

"Relax, Clark. This room is now a private space that we share. I'm not your enemy. Not in here, not out there. "

He nodded.

"Sorry. I'm a little on edge and I confess I don't knowhow to behave with others. "

The words came out of his mouth so naturally that he was surprised. Where did she get that confidence? He must have been too tired or on edge. Wayne took out a cigarette and before lighting it, he asked Clark for permission to light it, and Clark nodded his head. Wayne lit his cigarette before answering.

"Everyone has the right to be tense. Feel free to talk about it. "

Clark nodded his head and sat down on the desk chair. It was either that or the bed Wayne was already sitting in. He preferred to keep a little distance. Then he changed the subject.

"How was your mission? "

Wayne shot his cigarette for a long time before answering, in a cloud of smoke.

"Confidential. "

The deminer looked at him for a moment, before he finally plunged into his reading. He and Wayne did not discuss the evening any further. Not because they were tense, or angry, but because neither of them was in the mood to talk.

* * *

_**Day 62 (12/07)** _

It was windy. Quite a lot of wind, and rather cold. Kent lowered his helmet visor to get a better view of the screen he was using to guide the EOD, aka Jerry, as he arrived at the target area.

"I don't like it," commented Jordan next to him.

Kent didn't raise his head, focused on his task. Queen replied:

"Ah, I think it's okay. I don't feel like we're being watched. "

The mechanical arm arrived at the hole. Jordan sighed.

"On target, " Kent indicated.

"I'm not talking about people, I'm talking about this wind," replied Jordan.

The deminer manipulated the EOD mechanical arm to slightly clear the wire and the metal end that protruded from the ground.

"They're predicting strong gusts of wind. I wouldn't be surprised if a storm came down on us," Allen added.

Jerry's arm cleared the piece of metal and Kent realized it was just an old piece of junk. So he followed the wire.

"Damn it. It's not storm season," Jordan grumbled.

"I don't think there's really a storm season in this area," Wayne added, his eyes glued to the video screen.

Kent then confirmed the on-screen observation.

"False alarm. Just old debris. I'm bringing Jerry back. "

Allen patted Jordan on the shoulder in a friendly manner:

"You see finally, it's rather quiet! "

Jordan glanced at him blackly with a big smile on his face.

"Stop kidding me Flash! "

Kent received the EOD and together with the others, they packed all the demining equipment. They had to admit to themselves, that kind of false alarm sometimes really relaxes him. For Kent, it made him feel like the world wasn't that dark. Wayne then used the radio.

"False alarm, you can move. "

The unit that had called them in had taken refuge 50 yards away from them, down the street.

" **Copy that. We've just been called for security reinforcement in Mansour, you're coming with us.** "

The team members glanced at each other with questioning eyes as the others stepped out of their cover. Wayne turned towards them to get a visual of them.

"With all due respect, Lieutenant-Colonel Arnold, I must first inform my superior. "

" **This has already been agreed with Colonel Jones. Everybody over there.** "

"We're following you. "

They were in the district next door. The road would not be long. They all got into the Humvee and followed the vehicles of the other unit.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"In the end, it wasn't a sign of a sandstorm. "

They all looked at Lantern with a black look, except Wayne. It was raining. It was cold. It was dark too. It was the first time that Kent really felt winter, until now. It had already rained, it had already been cold, and of course, they couldn't escape the night. But these conditions had rarely been met. It was really cold and they were soaking wet.

"It was more like a thunderstorm, yes," Queen cried.

They all looked up when they heard a vehicle coming towards them without headlights. They all pointed their M4s in that direction. Wayne went to meet the vehicle.

After their intervention on the false alarm, they had been requisitioned to set up a checkpoint in the Mansour district. Kent had assumed that it was to protect the Green Zone, which was a few kilometers behind them. And it probably was.

"Open the dam, he has the authorization. "

Allen and Kent removed the barbed wire fence to let the civilian vehicle through. They didn't know what they were up to, or what was really going on, but they just obeyed orders. That's how it worked.

"How long before we're relieved of duty again? "

"In less than an hour," Wayne replied as he walked back to them.

Wayne was probably the only one of them who didn't complain about the rain or the cold. Kent, having traveled a lot without much means, was more resistant to changes in temperature and climate. He may have been physically stronger, but he still found the rain unpleasant. He knew it could be read on his face. But Wayne himself... he seemed so... quiet.

As if he was capturing his thoughts, Wayne turned his head and came towards him. Kent would have liked to have a little chat with him, but it wasn't the setting he wanted. He preferred a more relaxed, warmer setting. Maybe for once he didn't want others to get involved in the conversation. Maybe he just didn't want anyone else to be there.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark smiled as he watched Bruce breathed in his cigarette. Bruce's eyes sparkled because of the story he had just heard.

"Your turn, tell another one," Clark concluded.

He saw Bruce start to think. They had been talking about their childhood for almost two hours, both of them with disconcerting ease. They took turns sharing some rather amusing anecdotes. Clark found it hard to believe that the intrepid, curious, and obviously happy little boy he was hearing in the stories was the same person who was telling them. Bruce was full of secrets that Clark really liked.

"Well... I remember one time, for my 8th birthday, I wanted to have a real Japanese katana. Not one that was forged with today's methods, one that was forged with traditional and complex methods. Instead, my butler saw fit to offer me a wakizashi, a much smaller model, more suitable for my age, but forged according to my requests. " Bruce paused, with a slight smile on his face. "I've been pouting at him for weeks! "

Clark burst out laughing, imagining little Bruce.

"Alfred still seemed to be really caring for you. "

The other nodded.

"He raised me up and looked after me to the end. I owe him a lot. But... not as much as you owe Betty! "

Bruce laughed. That was really nice to Clark's ears.

"I feel stupid with my cow story now! "

"We sure didn't grow up in the same world! "

They gave each other a knowing look when another memory surfaced in Clark's head.

"Oh, I have a good one like that! When I was about... five or six years old, I used to imagine that I was a superhero and that I had super powers that allowed me to fly, to be super strong and fast, and I could even throw lasers with my eyes! " Bruce then burst out laughing, causing Clark to look upset. "Hey! I was five or six years old! And I was telling everyone I was from out of town! The truth is that I came from another planet where it often snowed. "

Bruce was totally absorbed in his story. He waited for the rest, a broad smile on his lips. It was disturbing how well it suited him. Clark continued:

"So, after a while, it came to my parents' ears. You can imagine the uneasiness... They told me I was adopted much later, but when we talked about that "superhero" episode again, they told me they were totally panicked. I should have known that I didn't get my dog just like that! "

Bruce shook his head and looked serious again.

"They must have been afraid that you would remember something too. I can really imagine you acting innocently as you tell all this, without realizing what it must have been like for your parents! "

Clark struck on his thighs by reflex :

"Exactly! I was really in my fantasy world, saving the world! And they behind didn't know how to handle it. "

They remained silent, Clark remembering this time with nostalgia and Bruce imagining the situation from all angles. Then he asked a question:

"By the way, how did it go when they told you? "

Clark took a moment to think about it and then casually shrugged his shoulders.

"I was twelve years old, I think, when they told me. That they had adopted me when I was a year and a half old. All they knew about my parents was that they were from Eastern Europe. I didn't react badly because... somewhere, I suspected it at the time. I have almost black hair, quite pronounced blue eyes. My parents have brown hair and brown eyes for my father and hazel eyes for my mother. No one in their family had physical traits similar to mine. At twelve years old, it is very easy to understand how heredity works. "

Bruce nodded his head, slightly pensive.

"Have you ever tried to find your origins? "

Clark knew that Bruce already knew half the answer. The other just wanted to know more without being too invasive in his questions. He answered him with a smile.

"I've done quite a bit of research with the adoption agency, orphanages, former case managers... I learned Russian first, then French and German before leaving for Europe. My investigation led me to Lithuania. In the countries of Eastern Europe. The advantage is that Russian is a language quite spoken and understood in these countries. It allowed me to find the neighborhood where my parents lived. By talking with former neighbors or friends I was able to find, I learned that they were Russian immigrants. "

Bruce nodded his head, waiting for the next step.

"So I know that I was probably born in Russia and that my name was Kal. After that... I went sightseeing. "

Clark showed a big smile, proud of his little end. Bruce stretched out a pensive smile in turn.

"That's a nice name, Kal. "

Clark immediately turned tomato red, suddenly embarrassed. His ears were on fire. Bruce laughed again at his reaction.

"Haven't you ever been called that? "

He hid his face in his hands, still surprised that he hadn't really died of shame.

"Yes, my mother tried, but... it's so... weird. "

Bruce displayed a little smile that Clark only had time to see when he looked up.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you so much. "

He meant it. It touched Clark deeply.

"I was surprised. Actually, I didn't reveal my original name to many people because, well, I'm still Clark Kent. But it's true that it's a name that I wouldn't want to lose. It's all I have left of my origins. "

Bruce nodded. Clark knew the man understood how important it was to him. Bruce may not have been demonstrative in his emotions, but he didn't doubt his ability to be empathetic and understanding. Not anymore.

"Thank you, Bruce. For this moment. "

Bruce gave him a sincere smile. Clark saw each of his smiles and laughter as a precious privilege.

"Thank you, Clark. For making these moments better. "

They looked at each other with a meaningful look, sharing a new complicity.


	10. Week 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This the most "hardcore" chapter. So... have a nice reading ^^

# Week 10

* * *

_**Day 66 (12/11)** _

Kent had a smile on his face. Before leaving for their escort mission, they had received a call from Shayera. Having a video conversation with her had lifted everyone's spirits, and they were partly relieved.

"I thought she was good. She sounded good," commented Allen, referring to the same subject.

Kent thought back to the laughter and tears that had been exchanged during the call. Shay was in rehab now. She was being monitored in the hospital and declared unfit for the field. But the woman had recovered quite quickly, and her strong character had a lot to do with it.

"And her new life plan looked pretty good," Allen said again.

Jordan started laughing behind the steering wheel.

"Are you talking about her wanting to work in a museum? Come on, that sucks. "

Kent shrugged.

"She has a really good knowledge of history and she's passionate about it. So why not? "

Allen nodded.

"It's good to change too. I think that at the end of my service I would probably go back to the police. "

Kent, for his part, had asked himself the question many times. He knew he had a way out once he put his military career behind him, but he wasn't sure what he wanted. Jordan shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, that's closer to what we're doing already. Anyway, if Shay likes it, why not... I wish her nothing but happiness. "

Kent nodded his head and looked at the rock faces. Allen suddenly began to laugh.

"I'm going to miss her, you're welcome. Remember the first time we talked to her? " he asked Jordan.

Jordan grunted and replied:

"She punched me in the face. "

Allen burst out laughing and Kent allowed himself to smile.

"It was a great moment," Flash exclaimed.

Jordan didn't have time to answer, he shouted:

"ROCKET ! "

Jordan steered the steering wheel at the moment of impact. Kent had no reflexes. The Humvee flipped several times, rolling off the road as the convoy was being attacked. When the vehicle came to a stop, Kent had difficulty reacting. Wayne was quicker than he was.

"Everybody's okay ?" he asked.

Their Humvee was upside down. Kent crawled out on his side, crawling on the ground while Wayne was doing the same thing next door. Machine gun fire was raining down on them.

"Allen, Jordan ? "reasked Wayne.

Kent glanced at Allen. Allen was unconscious and bleeding at the arcade.

"Flash is unconscious. I think he got the turret. "

Wayne positioned himself right next to it and started firing blanket shots. Kent dived back into the vehicle to drag Allen. He then moved on to Jordan.

"Hal ? "

Jordan was slowly regaining consciousness. The impact against the side of the Humvee had been violent.

"I'm stuck... "

Kent lives it well. Hal was the only one who was visibly struggling against the laws of gravity. The steering wheel was blocking him.

"Get ready for the reception. "

He turned his M4 over, and hit the side of the wheel with the stick several times. After a few hits, Jordan crashed to the ground.

"Damn it," he swore as Kent helped him out.

They then automatically took over their cover, protecting Allen, who was still unconscious among themselves.

"What's the situation, Bat? " asked Jordan.

"Two Humvees and a truck out of action. The two lead vehicles and the other two trucks went by. "

Kent tried to go around the Humvee to get a clear view of the others. He quickly withdrew when the shots came at him.

"I see the second Humvee ten meters away from us, at 10 o'clock but empty. And the cab of the truck jumped. "

Wayne used his radio.

"Unit 4, do you copy? "

There was some crackling before we got a real answer.

" **Glad to know you're okay, Wayne. What's your status?** "

Kent saw Wayne analyze their environment with one look.

"Poor visibility on the shooters. The only means of retreat we've got is our eight o'clock, 200 yards. We've got an unconscious man. "

There was a pause of several seconds. Kent and Jordan were doing cover shots to try to get more information. There must have been about ten people there.

" **Okay, let's try this exit. The rocks will give us better cover.** "

Kent saw a man rearming a rocket launcher.

"If we're going to do something about it, it's now," said Lantern, who had seen the same thing.

Wayne saw the man too. He picked up his radio again.

"On my signal, you run to the rocks. We'll cover you. "

Kent and Jordan stood ready to fire. Wayne moved back slightly, lay down on his back with his weapon in position and stood ready.

"Now! "

Kent and Jordan fired without restraint as the group ran for cover. Unit 4 fired smoke to cover themselves. Wayne pivoted on his belly, already in position to fire as he came out of the cover of the Humvee. He fired more accurately than Kent and Jordan. He hit the bull's-eye. The rocket exploded about two meters from the second vehicle. He made a hit on a second man and a third. Kent and Jordan probably shot two other men.

" **We're safe, Wayne!** "

He drove under cover again and Kent and Jordan stooped down to reload.

"Copy, Payne. We're going to move before someone else gets the rocket launcher. "

He took a look at his two men. Kent was definitely the strongest of them all. Without hesitation, the de-miner lifted Allen, as he had been taught in training, and carried him on his shoulders. Allen was really lighter than he thought he was.

"All right, here we go. "

The three of them threw their smoke and ran. 200 meters. It may have seemed long, but it was short. In Kent's head, it was pretty long.

He skidded by lying behind a rock while the shots were close to them. A soldier pulled Allen off his shoulders and wedged him behind the rock. They then saw Payne approaching.

"Reinforcements should arrive soon. Should we wait for them or try to kill this assholes? "

Wayne pointed to his M4.

"We're going to get them. "

Payne winked at him and smiled. Surely the two men knew each other. They even looked a little like accomplices.

"In position," Payne ordered.

Kent followed the movement of his men, as did Jordan. Wayne and Payne lay down on the ground.

"Payne/Wayne were back," said Payne.

Wayne growled.

"Stop calling us that. "

"Everyone used to call us that! "

"Nobody did. "

Wayne's dismissive tone made Kent smile. Payne sighed as he shot first.

"You really are the grumpiest sniper I've ever worked with. "

Wayne fired back before answering.

"And you're the most chatty observer I've ever worked with. "

Wayne's cold tone may have seemed offensive, but the other sniper just laughed.

"You really haven't changed at all. "

Two of Payne's men were a hit. Kent had one in his sights and was waiting for it to come out. Now that they were under cover, it was going to be pigeon shooting for both sides. His man soon showed up. Kent put three bullets in his chest.

The exchange of fire didn't last long. Maybe less than an hour. Jordan and one of Payne's guys were shot in their vests, but nothing serious. Kent was more worried about Allen, who hadn't regained consciousness since. Wayne had warned the team that they had an injury. He would be taken care of as soon as reinforcements arrived. He was hoping that everything would be okay.

* * *

**_Day 67 (12/12)_ **

Clark looked at the Flash with a pained expression. So did Diana. Arthur managed to remain neutral. He didn't know what to say. It was too hard. Too hard to keep his emotions to himself, to remain as impassive as possible. Barry had become his friend. It hurt him to see him like that and not be able to react. Diana put a hand on his shoulder for support. They both needed it. Hal couldn't hold on and had to leave the room.

"You're making faces. You're constipated or something ?" Barry said, slightly worried.

Diana snapped and burst out laughing, leaning on the mattress of Barry's bed. Arthur distracted him while Clark struggled even harder not to laugh.

"We were very afraid for you. It's a nervous laugh. "

Beside, Diana was crying with laughter. Clark displayed a half smile that he couldn't hold. Barry was not very convinced.

"Yeah... I was told I had a concussion... Why do I get the feeling you've done something stupid? "

Diana finally left the room, greeting Barry in the distance:

"I'm glad you're all right, Flash! "

The latter greeted her with a worried expression on his face. Clark cracked. He displayed a broad smile.

"You know, it's euphoria. "

Or rather the pencil drawings that Ollie had made on his face. Barry had Spock's furrowed eyebrows, the Freddie Mercury-style moustache and half-drawn round fake glasses on his arch bandage.

"We think you're fine," Arthur added. "You look... glowing. "

This time Clark laughed. Barry sat up in bed.

"Damn, I can really feel the bullshit coming! Where are Ollie and Hal?! "

"Outside, " Clark managed to answer.

Barry displayed a really angry expression. In addition to the drawings on his face, it was even more hilarious.

"I could be out in an hour, then I swear I'm going to gut them! "

Arthur tried to keep a serious expression on his face when he said:

"Before you go out, you ought to pass in front of a mirror! "

"What?! "

Barry began to get up. Arthur and Clark did what made the most sense in the situation: they ran out of the infirmary.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"If I find them, I catch them and kill them. "

Barry still had some of his grudge. Ollie and Hal had planned well: they had made themselves temporarily untraceable. Barry nervously clutched his coffee cup as he sat at the dining room table with Diana, Arthur, John and Clark.

"They'll come out on their own," John commented, his eyes half glued to a book.

Barry nodded.

"Yeah. Good thing no one else saw me that way. "

The other four soldiers looked at each other with complicit eyes, thinking back to the pictures that had been taken.

"Yeah, I'm glad," Clark added as he drank his coffee. "

He saw Palmer, Stone and Wayne approaching them in the distance. He was surprised to see them settle down to have their coffee too. Stone struck up a conversation:

"Glad to see you're feeling better, Allen. Wayne told me. "

Barry smiled a grateful smile at him.

"Thank you Major. "

Palmer looked at Barry in turn.

"I'm glad to see that you're presentable again," he said, showing his face, a petty smile on his lips.

Barry turned peony red and Clark held back a smile: it had circulated quite well. Wayne added:

"You've still got pencil over your lip. "

They all turned to Barry to look for the almost imperceptible stain of ink that was still there. Wayne had an expert eye. Barry began to blush with embarrassment. He stood up.

"Well, they're dead. "

He left the table with a determined step, under the amused gaze of the others. Diana stood up in succession.

"I don't want to miss that for anything in the world! "

"Neither do I," John added, following her.

"We're following you, it's changing us," Stone added.

They took Palmer and Arthur with them. Clark then found himself alone with Bruce. The bomb-disposal expert didn't let the conversation die down.

"You've seen the pictures," he asked.

Wayne didn't show any expression, but the brightness in his clear eyes revealed his amusement.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Hal and Ollie go around showing it around the base. "

Clark was not at all surprised. He imagined the two men doing it.

"They're great though. "

Wayne nodded.

"They sure know how to set the mood. It's good for the guys," Wayne nodded.

Clark really liked the soldiers he was working with. Probably for the first time in his service. And then, now, he really liked Bruce. Even though he was still struggling to figure him out, the more he found out about him, the more he liked what he was learning. He turned his head towards Wayne and they exchanged a knowing glance at each other. He had been really lucky to run into them. Life was constantly made up of encounters and sometimes certain bonds were established and lasted.

* * *

**_Day 69 (12/14)_ **

Clark had just gotten out of his shower when Wayne returned to their quarters, packing up their belongings.

"We've got a tip on a potential terrorist site. We're on our way. "

Clark swore while water was still dripping on his skin.

"I'll be there in five minutes. "

Wayne looked at him for a moment before he nodded his head and walked out. Clark activated as quickly as he could. Information like that was a godsend.

In the Humvee, Wayne quickly made his briefing. They were called for backup like many other teams. It was a big operation where Wayne and Queen's skills could come in handy, and in this type of assault, Jordan and Allen certainly weren't too much of a handful. But what the Marines really wanted was Kent's skills, there was no doubt about that.

They arrived in the slum area of Baghdad. It was small, crowded and very poor. People were afraid of them, they looked down on them or they ran away from them. Kent was tense. Almost as tense as the Iraqis who saw their place of life invaded by dozens of American soldiers.

His team was in retreat. The Marines had taken the lead in the intervention and his unit would only serve them during the search of the premises. Then, at the end of the convoy, they moved along, simply following the soldiers in front of them and the orders transmitted.

They very quickly surrounded the target area. It was a small hut in appearance, easily surrounded. Kent thought there were too many of them to check the area, then he thought of the basement where they had found Feltman. Maybe there were basements.

The Marines entered. Their inspection was quick. There were a few exchange shots, then nothing else. Just the first Marine's entrance scream. The other screams came from the frightened Iraqis around them. Kent squeezed the butt of his M4. It was going to be his turn. The first marine then came out of the small house.

"We've got some stuff for you, deminers. "

Wayne nodded to him to go inside.

In the main room, several weapons, mostly machine guns, were laid out there. Marines were already inspecting and cataloguing them. Others searched posters on the walls and table and another searched the bodies of two men. It really looked like a terrorist hideout.

"What you're interested in is downstairs. "

Kent went down through the hatch that was marked for him, originally hidden under a carpet.

"Arden! This is where it's happening! "

Kent didn't really pay attention to the second arriving man and instead looked at the room in front of him. A laboratory, which must have been the size of the room above.

"Clark ? Ah it's nice to see you again ! "

He turned around to see a familiar face.

"Stephen! I'm glad to see you! "

They gave each other a quick hug.

"I'd talk to you, but later, I feel like we've got work to do! "

Kent nodded his head. The two of them separated to walk around the main table and observe the facilities and furniture. They were dealing with a small chemist's laboratory. But the lab had been quickly emptied.

He finds traces on the floor, on the table, missing elements or present in the cupboards. The places were both empty but with many consistent clues.

"Well... there was TATP produced here. No doubt," Stephen announced as a marine arrived.

Kent nodded. The components were easily identifiable by their smell or appearance.

"In large quantities, " Kent said. "The lab was emptied a while ago. "

"What makes you say that?" asked the marine, an angry expression on his face.

From what he could read on his uniform tag, the soldier's name was Cohan. Stephen replied:

"There's no doubt that many pounds of TATP were produced here. I would say... about twenty kilos? "

Kent nodded his head.

"I would say that too," he confirmed.

Stephen continued his explanation.

"And twenty kilos of unstable explosive doesn't come off that easily. And even if it hasn't been mixed, that's a lot of components. "

The marine pesta.

"Basically, this lab had been empty for a long time. "

The two bomb squad members nodded their heads. Cohan then went back up, leaving the other two to continue examining the lab. When they were sure they'd made it all the way around, they too turned back.

The Marines were talking among themselves. As soon as they realized they were there, they turned around and Cohan spoke:

"There are several sites that are suspected to be other such hideouts. We're going to split into several groups. We'll call for reinforcements, but we can already search two of them quickly. Arden, you will come with your team and me to site A. It's a few minutes from here. Kent, you'll go under Dinelli's command to site B. It's northeast of here. "

Kent followed Cohan's gesture with his eyes to see who Dinelli was. The next moment they were all gathering outside.

Kent noticed on their way through the slum that Wayne was not at all pleased with the way they were acting. He could see it in his metallic eyes. He knew he hated being left out in the cold like that. That the only reason they came on the team was by default.

They arrived in front of a small three-storey building that was half destroyed by the bombing. On the surface it might have looked disused, but Kent noticed recent tire tracks around it. He was not the only one to notice them. Wayne held his Barrett firmly, ready to fire. They heard a humming sound inside.

They positioned themselves at the single entrance. Kent smelled a foul odor emanating from the building. As soon as they were ready, the Marines, leading the team, broke down the door. Kent, just by the smell alone, thought he was going to vomit during the assault. They disregarded the horrors they saw on the tables and headed for the stairs to search the floors, which were completely blank. Then they went back down and looked at what they saw, among hundreds of flies flying around.

"Fuck. "

"Barbarians. "

Kent closed his eyes so that he could not see the horrible images in front of him. Corpses. There were at least a dozen bodies on tables, some of which must have been there longer than others. Men, women and... there were even two kids. Kent didn't give them more than 14 years.

"Kent... " called him Allen.

He approached a man's body. He had started to decompose slightly and the smell was really unbearable. Queen, next door, couldn't resist. He was the first to vomit, followed by two Marines and Allen.

Under the maggots that were swarming, he notice first the wires. They had not finished being hidden in the organs and by slightly pushing the intestines with the tip of his cannon, he saw the charges. TATP. Probably connected and still unstable. And with the decomposition of the body, the digestive enzymes and maggots that produced heat and attacked the container of the product, the risk of explosion was greatly increased. He thinks at full speed, overwhelmed by panic.

"Evacuate this building! Get away from... " He turned around to see all the dead bodies and lost his temper. "Give me your fucking water! "

If all the bodies contained TATP, he had to either neutralize it or take everything with him and that was not possible. Fuck ! They could have blown themselves up by carrying them away afterwards! Fuck, and with all those people around, they would end up injured by the explosion and their homes would be destroyed.

"What do we do with the water ?" asked Dinelli.

"Put it in a canister, or whatever you can find !" Kent replied rather aggressively.

He felt a hand resting firmly on his shoulder and crossed Wayne's gaze. That calmed him down. Surprisingly, it calmed him down. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain control of his panic, then continued :

"TATP can be neutralized in water. It is a very unstable compound and it is even more so in this room. So get as much water as you can in a large container and then leave the perimeter while I get it out of ... "

His gaze sweeping across the room spoke for him.

"Very good. Let's do this. "

Kent untied his canteen and threw it to Dinelli. He took out his M4 and put it against the table. He would have taken a deep breath, but the air was saturated with decomposition. He rolled up his sleeves as much as he could, preparing himself psychologically for what he was going to have to do.

"Let's go, guys. "

"I'm staying here," Wayne said.

Kent glanced at the Major. He cleared a window and positioned himself to cover him if necessary. He knew the sniper was doing this for him. He didn't say anything, just started his job.

He plunged his bare hands into his entrails. He felt a shiver of disgust run down his spine as he came into contact with the viscous matter of decomposing organs and larvae crawling against his skin. He couldn't tell which was worse, the touch or the putrid smell. It literally smelled like death. The stench that could sometimes be smelled in hospital rooms was nothing like it now. And with all those flies...

He closed his eyes for a moment to hold on to his lofty heart. His stomach was showing its disgust and Kent did everything he could to keep the contents of his stomach inside for a little longer. It was filthy. Disgusting. The slimy sound it made made him sick. He was digging through a dead man's guts. By doing so, he dishonored the body even more.

He took the device out. The TATP was connected to a remote detonation system. Whatever the monsters who did this had in mind, he was certain that they were quite organized and were planning something big. He took out his pocket knife and cut the wires with it. When he had finished, he took out the disconnected device and then the explosives, which he placed gently on the edge of the table.

He raised his head towards the rest of the room. Only Wayne was there and he had a lot of bodies left. Kent had to check them all. He moved on to the next body. Another man, taller, already stitched up. His belly looked swollen. It looked like he'd been there longer. He undid each seam with his knife and pulled the skin apart.

He held an acid reflux in his throat just in time. He didn't need to add any more material to what he had in front of him. He took a deep breath and passed his right arm inside. It was... foul. Soft and liquefying. The acid smell almost stung his nose. Kent cracked. He quickly took his hand out and turned just in time to vomit on the floor. He vomited absolutely everything in his stomach, the strong contractions of his diaphragm hurting his stomach.

He realized under the strain that he was crying. Tears ran down his cheeks as he choked, trying to vomit again under involuntary contractions when his stomach was now empty. He could not even wipe his face or mouth. Nor could he remove the bitter-acidic taste he had in his mouth, nor the smell that came out of the place.

"It's going to be all right, Clark ?" Wayne asked, still at his post.

Kent didn't answer. He just waved his hand as he waited to see if his body would cooperate with his mind again. When he did, he returned to the second body. He searched blindly, without much difficulty, as he felt his hands were drowning in a viscous and corrosive material. He carefully pulled the TATP out, this time unconnected, and had to search all the way under the rib cage.

It was at this point that he realized that the first one might not have been properly searched. He went back and luckily recovered two more packs of TATP blocked by the lungs. He then switched bodies as the soldiers returned.

"Two barrels were brought back. Will that do? "

Kent didn't really know how much water he needed, but given the urgency, it would probably be enough. They must have gotten 50-liter barrels from the locals. He nodded his head and retrieved the TATP.

"I think I'll be okay. Put them in the center of the room. "

He then took the TATP and began to pour it into the water. Slowly, carefully, he made the white powder settle into this liquid which would neutralize it. He dumped everything he had already found and when he looked up, the room was empty of the other soldiers. Only Wayne remained at his post while the Marines stayed at the door. He didn't blame them. It was unbreathable and disgusting.

"The other unit found a stockpile of weapons. Looks like we weren't so lucky," Dinelli told him.

Kent just nodded his head. Less fortunate. Could such horror be associated with luck? He doubted it. He returned to his work.

Kent moved to all the corpses one by one, in complete silence, disregarding everything around him. It was the hardest thing he ever did in his life. He hoped that the harder he worked, the more he would get psychologically out of what he was doing, that he would be able to cope even better. He prayed for that. And to each person, he held back his tears a little more. He avoided looking at their faces at all costs, to dehumanize them as much as possible. To hold on.

He spent time. A lot of time, too much time, searching these corpses, neutralizing the explosive. He would have liked to do better, to do more for them. To be able to honor their bodies, to be able to give them the last sacraments, or a last prayer whatever their beliefs. He just never would have wanted to live that in his life.

Then he came to the children. The last ones. Their bodies, in pre-adolescence, hadn't had time to build up any extra muscle mass. They were so frail. So young. He felt the tears rising as he cut the first child's stitches. He did everything he could to contain himself. He lifted his head, shook it, beat his eyelids faster. But when he had to put his hand into his abdomen to search it, he thought he was tearing his soul apart. Something broke inside him.

He silently broke into tears. He felt that somewhere in his mind he let go. He was letting go of everything that was in front of him. It was like falling into the void, while being conscious. He was acting mechanically, when he took care of the second child. That was the last person he had to take care of and then, as with the others, he neutralized TATP.

Kent exited the building. He needed a change of scenery. He was having trouble breathing. He was still feeling sick and his stomach was still having violent contractions. He bent down to vomit bile right next to the other soldiers. They were making a lot of noise and it made his head spin.

"Clark. "

He raised his head when he was sure he could breathe again without vomiting. He caught Wayne's eye. An ocean of mercury.

"You're done," Dinelli asked next door.

Kent hadn't seen him. He nodded affirmatively, while he was still having trouble breathing. Wayne grabbed him by the shoulders.

"You did a great job, Clark. We're going home. Jordan! "

He looked up to see that their vehicles had been brought back here. He let himself be guided back to the vehicle. When he got inside, he felt like he was weighing a lot. Really heavy.

"He's really pale, Major," said Allen as they were already on the road.

"So step on it, Jordan. He's in shock. "

Kent didn't realize how long it took them to get there. He just felt like they were putting him in the Humvee and then taking him out.

"Ollie, get a doctor. Clark, breathe easy. "

He didn't understand what he was talking about. Wayne was examining him from every angle. He stopped on his hands.

"Barry, get some water, quick. "

"I can do something," Jordan asked.

Wayne nodded and showed him his bulletproof vest. Kent let it happen, his arms were too heavy to help him.

"Clark, breathe. We're at the base. "

Kent looked at Wayne. He couldn't listen to him. His throat was too sore for that. The Major took his hands when Allen came back with water. Wayne rinsed his hands full of blood and fluid. Kent grunted in pain from the water.

"Damn it, Clark!" Wayne grumbled when he saw the condition of his hands.

"What's going on?" Ollie asked as he arrived, ahead of the doctors.

Kent recognized the doctor who helped him lie down on a stretcher. He didn't protest, he was having trouble getting around. He felt transported and the next thing he knew he was covered with a survival sheet and an oxygen mask.


	11. Week 11

# Week 11

* * *

_**Day 72 (12/17)** _

Clark emerged from a deep sleep without a dream. He could easily recognize the effects of the painkillers he had been given. He opened his eyes. He could see the end of his oxygen mask placed on his face. He knew it helped him breathe a little better. Then he heard a noise around him and saw the doctor taking care of him. Hamilton. Dr. Hamilton.

"Stay calm, Sergeant. "

Clark was so doped up that he couldn't be any calmer. The doctor resumed his examination.

"Are you having trouble breathing? Any pain? "

He shook his head negatively, judging that he was not breathing too badly and that the pain was classic. Especially the pains in his hands. He then raised them in front of his eyes and saw that they were bandaged.

"Kerosene bandages, for your burns," Hamilton explained. "I think you know the cause... "

Clark nodded. He removed the mask with difficulty enough to speak.

"Between the acetone peroxide and the gastric juices... "

He had a sore throat. Talking made him cough and Hamilton helped him to sit up.

"That's what I was told. Chemical burns. Do you remember what happened? "

The images came back to him. It was enough to put his stomach back together again.

"I'd rather not. "

The doctor made a grimace.

"They explained it to me. When they brought you back here, you were in shock. Your throat and hands were burned and you were having trouble breathing. You had to be intubated quickly, and even though there was a risk of edema, they couldn't transfer you to the Green Zone. You're really lucky you're doing so well. "

Clark wouldn't have said anything about luck this time either. He tried to clear his throat before asking, taking off his mask:

"My hands? "

Hamilton smiled at him.

"Nothing serious, it's quite superficial and it didn't do too much damage to the dermis. You won't have any scars. In a month's time nothing will be visible! "

Clark closed his eyes in relief. He had no functional loss. That was the most important thing for him. He opened his eyes again to ask another question:

"When can I get out? "

The doctor smiled and put his mask back on.

"We'll see how you do in a few days. I'm going to lower the dosage of your medication. You've been unconscious for more than two days and that doesn't count as rest. "

Clark nodded. He was indeed tired. Hamilton was then called away. Clark nodded his head and he was alone again. He closed his eyes. That was enough to make him fall asleep again.

* * *

**_Day 75 (12/20)_ **

Clark had had plenty of time to think, the time he was nailed in that damn bed. He had had time to review the images of the bodies dozens of times. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he saw someone walking by. He could feel the sensation of searching again and again inside their abdomen, he could still smell that stench.

And every time it happened, he would try to think about why he did it. Why he had forced himself to do it. To save lives. To protect his brothers in arms. To do his job. That's what he was repeating over and over again.

Ollie, Hal, and Barry came to visit him as soon as they got the okay. No one talked about what had happened, what Clark had had to do in that building. Ollie told what they knew about the rest of the dig and the other two about what they had done in the meantime as assignments that Clark had missed. In short, not much.

Colonel Jones had also come to visit him. To inform him of what was going on. That the decision had been made to give him a period of remission and that he would have to undergo a psychological evaluation to determine whether he was fit to return to work. Clark knew that the first interview with the psychotherapist would result in dozens of sessions with him. Probably to prevent post-traumatic stress disorder or to check that he wasn't already having one.

Clark hated psychotherapists. But he knew the disorder was quite serious, he had seen the damage it had done to other soldiers. He didn't want to go through that. On the other hand, he didn't want to talk to that kind of therapist either. He would rather talk to someone close to him about this than to a stranger. But he wasn't really ready to go back to that subject. He had considered talking to Bruce for a while, but...

Bruce didn't come. Not once had he visited him in three days since he had been awake. Clark thought it was because the Major had work to do, reports to write or exercises to supervise on the base or other missions that would require his sniper skills. But Ollie was there, and the others were surprised that the Major hadn't already been there.

Somehow that hurt Clark. More than he thought it would. He'd expected Bruce to come and visit him first. Or at least once. He had figured that now that they were friends, and even roommates, a bond had been created. Maybe it had only been in his direction. Maybe Bruce was too antisocial for that.

Clark thought that he had given too much importance to Bruce. He should never have seen him as a stable pillar to lean on. He should never have trusted him so much, listened to him so much when he told him that he was there to protect him. Indeed, that was his job as his superior, nothing more. He had been so stupid. How could his instincts have been so wrong about that person? He was pretty good in general.

He looked up when Hamilton appeared, a big smile on his face.

"Well, your latest results are good so you can go! Don't forget the instructions I gave you: go easy on the endurance efforts for the moment, change your bandages twice a day and see you in a week and a half! "

Clark smiled a thin smile back at him.

"It's going to be a long time. "

Hamilton winked at him as Clark began to get ready to leave.

"I'm sure you'll be less bored than here! "

"That's for sure. "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

He drank his coffee alone at one of the refectory tables. Even when he wasn't on duty, the world kept turning. His whole team was on an intervention and he was just sitting there on the bench. He thought it wasn't a bad idea. In bed, he was dreaming about going back on the field and now that he was imagining himself going back on the field...

He closed his eyes. He was a deminer. He had seen and experienced horrors. He accepted it. He had to keep accepting it. He had done his job. It was his job. He had done it to protect people. He took a deep breath to get rid of the images. He had to get back on track quickly. He had to pull himself together before he toppled over.

He had to do something. He had to keep busy. He couldn't run, he couldn't practice, and he really didn't want to maintain his Arabic while reading it. Maybe it would be good for him to do something else. To work in another way. He stood up, determined not to let it get him down: he was going to have a little chat with Jones.

* * *

_**Day 76 (12/21)** _

Clark had managed to convince the Colonel to give him something to do. He had only been doing what Jones had asked for 24 hours and he was already upset about it. What an idea.

"Sounds like you're grounded," Ollie said in an amused tone.

He turned his head towards the blond man, who was having fun playing with the large caliber bullets.

"Put that back where you found it, Arrow, or my numbers won't be correct. "

Clark then saw the camera flash activate and he shot Barry.

"Do you really want me to smoke you before you go home?" Clark asked very seriously, looking hard.

Barry gave him a big smile:

"Come on, I've got to show my family who I work with! For once my perm' allows me to be there for the holidays! "

Hal smiled at Barry with a carnivorous smile:

"And will you show them pictures of your beautiful moustache? "

Ollie burst out laughing and Clark tried to stay focused, but he was really amused by the situation. Their joy of life made him forget his last mission for a while. That's how they supported him. By taking his mind off it. Clark had to admit that it was better than shutting himself away in his solitude. Which he had been tempted to do at first.

"You really want to bring this up, Hal ? " said Barry, giving him a menacing look.

Clark shook his head and smiled. Thank God they were there.

"You're walking down a slippery slope, Lantern. "

Hal winked at him.

"I like danger. "

Barry put the camera in his hands and looked at what was in front of him. The shelves with the grenades, the C4 charges and all the explosives. This time Clark stepped in:

"Barry, if you touch even one of these items while I've been inventorying them for hours, I'm going to drop you right out. "

Implied that he would take a load of about ninety kilos for every meter eighty-five that Clark was making. The Flash, on the other hand, must have been six feet tall for about 15 pounds lighter. In other words, Clark was the one in the ice chest between them.

"You don't want to load it on him instead," Barry replied annoyed.

Clark raised his arms.

"I don't want anything to do with this," he said with a smile.

"I'll make it up to you, Man of Steel," said Hal.

He raised his eyes to the sky, as he did every time he was called that. In addition to the fact that he didn't think he deserved the name, he found it far too pretentious and...

"You couldn't find a shorter nickname ?" he asked aloud.

They shrugged their shoulders and Ollie answered:

"Well, you tell that to Stone. I think he called you that," Ollie replied with a smile.

Clark swallowed.

"Maybe I won't complain then. "

Barry waved his arms to draw attention to himself:

"Hey, we're not changing the subject! As I want my beautiful face to be impeccable, I'll pay you back next year! "

Ollie threw an ammunition at him:

"Stop showing off! I too would like to spend the entire holiday season with my family! "

Ollie turned pale when he saw Clark's eyes. Without saying anything, he went to retrieve the ball, at fault.

"You've got family, you?" Hal asked.

Arrow winked at him.

"I'm sure I can find one in a bar! "

Clark couldn't stop laughing with Hal. Barry replied, petty:

"Because you think that you and your little blond goat can make hearts turn upside down? "

The sniper looked offended the moment Bruce Wayne walked in, breaking the moment of laughter.

"Stone needs us for surveillance. Be ready in five minutes. "

And he walked out. He hadn't given him a single look. Bruce didn't know that, he was now certain of it. Even in their own barracks, they managed to avoid each other.

"Good, the call of duty! We'll tell you about Clark," Ollie told him.

Clark greeted them with a wave of his hand. His cheerfulness had just vanished in one fell swoop.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

He looked at the stars again. He could easily stand the cold of the night, and with coffee it was even better. He preferred to look at the stars rather than go back to his quarters. Where he might run into Bruce. He didn't want to force him to be in his presence. He had clearly understood the message, when Bruce avoided looking at him at lunch, that in the evening he preferred to eat the meal alone despite the invitation of the others and that during the day, he had not addressed him a single word. And even in their neighbourhoods, they didn't speak to each other.

He preferred the silence to come from the fact that he was alone. If Bruce wanted to see him, to talk to him, Clark knew he would find him. Somewhere out there, that's what he was kind of hoping for. That he would come to him and ask him how he was doing. Pfff. He was ridiculous. Even pitiful.

It really hurt him. He couldn't understand why it was hurting him so much. Why it made him like that. Was it because of his trauma, that he had become so sensitive? Was it because he was morally and psychologically tired? Was it because Bruce was avoiding him? Because he had become weak?

He felt his tears flowing. Clark hated himself. All he felt now was disgust and anger towards himself. He looked at his hands. Breaded but functional. His hands that had searched their insides.

He closed his eyes and wiped his cheeks, swallowing all his bitterness. Tomorrow he would see the psychotherapist. If he wanted to stay on the surface and not sink, he had to be strong. He had to be sure of himself. He had to keep his goal in sight and stick to it. Just a little longer. Just long enough to finish his shift. After that, he wouldn't commit again. It was his last time.

He got up and went back to his quarters. All he had to do was sleep. Sleep, with the help of the sleeping pills Hamilton had prescribed for him. Sleep without dreaming. That was what he needed. He was sure of that.

He stopped when he saw Bruce standing by the door. He was smoking, obviously stringing cigarettes on cigarettes. Their eyes met for a second before the sniper turned away. Clark had got the message, there was no doubt about it now. He entered his quarters with an even heavier heart.

* * *

**_Day 77 (12/22)_ **

Clark had prepared psychologically for this interview. He knew that there would be others, he couldn't get out of it like the other times. He wasn't the first one he had dealt with. So when he walked into the office, he was really determined. And slightly angry. At Bruce. Who else could it be? He was tired of him ignoring it. It was worse than anything. He couldn't take it anymore. Well, he was on edge.

It was the first time he met the camp psychotherapist in person.

"First Class Sergeant Kent! Please make yourself comfortable. My name is Will Magnus. "

Clark sat in the chair next to Magnus. Clark knew the communication techniques they used because he had seen them over and over again. Sitting close to the patient while giving them space. To build a trusting relationship more easily.

"Well, how about getting to know each other first? Shall I make you some coffee? "

Clark gave him a smile. As unfriendly as possible.

"No thanks for the coffee. I'd rather we cut to the chase. We don't know each other, it's true and I don't like you right away. I don't like people who do your job. "

Magnus displayed a smile.

"You're not the first to say that to me. "

"Great. So let me be clear. I've been through a traumatic event. I'll lie to you when I say I didn't, just as I'll lie when I say I don't have images that haunt me. What I experienced there, you can be sure that I won't tell you about it. I really don't want to talk to you. So my request is this: I'm leaving, I'm not coming to your stupid sessions that will waste both of our time and we'll meet again for an evaluation to get back on the field. Is that okay with you? "

This time Magnus burst out laughing. Clark looked slightly offended.

"Excuse me, excuse me Sarge. It's just that for someone who doesn't want to talk to me, you're giving me quite a speech! "

Clark smiled.

"Do we have a deal? "

Will Magnus sounded it with his green eyes.

"I've heard a lot about you, Sergeant. Unfortunately, I can't force you to talk to me. Although, you know, we don't have to discuss the incident. We can discuss something else as well. "

Clark cut him off with a wave of his hand:

"I don't want to talk about knitting with you, or anything else. If I need to talk to someone I have friends for that. You are not a friend. "

Magnus pushed himself back into his chair.

"Well, at times like that I would suggest a rapprochement, but... you don't really seem very inclined to create a friendly bond and I don't want to force you to do so. But I still have to do my job: I'll see you again for another evaluation before you take over, okay? "

Clark was internally surprised to do so well. He had built up tons of arguments for nothing.

"It's perfect. "

He shook hands with Magnus and stood up. The latter opened the door for him:

"Tell me about it, Sergeant. With whomever you like. But it will do you good. "

Clark nodded his head and walked out. Unfortunately, the one and only person he could have talked to pretended he didn't exist anymore.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Colonel Jones frowned slightly as he observed his request. Clark had taken care to be as strict as possible in writing his paper.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant. Unfortunately I cannot accede to your request for lack of means. Your quarters have not yet been restored and I am going to have an influx of new soldiers that will have to be accommodated. I will already have to find a way to accommodate all these beautiful people, so... "

Clark nodded. At least he tried.

"I understand. Thank you Colonel for your time. "

He walked to the door and Jones resumed:

"Without indiscretion, may I ask why you want to go back to your quarters? Is there a problem between you and Major Wayne? "

Clark shook his head.

"No, it's just that it was a temporary solution. "

He was hoping to be convincing. Jones nodded.

"I'm sorry, Kent. But I think a little company won't hurt you anyway, even if it is Wayne. "

Clark smiled thinly and walked out. If only that could be true.

Soldiers leaving on leave were gathering to go to the plane. They were going to be short-handed for the holiday season. It was normal. Everybody made sure they went home to see their families. Arthur, Barry and Diana would come home. Arthur would return to his pregnant wife, Barry to his fathers and his adopted sister, and Diana to her island, which she considered to be her whole family.

They were greeting each other as they left. Clark joined them. He hugged the three soldiers in his arms, wishing them all a happy holiday. Somehow he was jealous of them, that they were all leaving this hellhole. At that moment, he thought that if he had to go home, he probably wouldn't want to come back.

His eyes fell on Bruce. Among all this crowd, all this agitation, he had to stay focused on him. And he had to turn his eyes in his direction. They stared at each other for a moment. Clark chose to turn his head away and leave, at the same time Bruce did the same thing on his side.


	12. Week 12

# Week 12

* * *

_**Day 79 (12/25)** _

It was one of the few times Clark made an outside call. On Christmas Eve and in the New Year. When he was deployed on Christmas Day, he learned that it was better to make his calls early in the morning, despite the time difference. The center that managed the secure lines was always available at those times. They made an effort to maintain the morale of the troops. Clark knew that he would be forgiven for calling a day earlier, with the time difference, and that he would be forgiven for calling Kansas so late.

He had called his mother, Martha. She had been living alone on their small farm for several years and although he sent her a few letters, Clark rarely made calls. He didn't feel it was necessary, preferring to give more time to those who had children or a spouse. And as he did every time he spoke live to Martha, he did his best to lie to her. His mother had always had the courtesy to never point this out to him, and he knew it. But he couldn't tell her about his daily life. Especially not now.

And then hearing her voice... it really did him good. If he couldn't see his mother's face because she didn't have a computer, he could easily imagine the features of her face at the sound of her voice. It was always emotional, those moments when they were talking to each other. When he hung up, he had tears in his eyes and a big heart. It was heavy.

He missed his life on the farm. He missed the tranquility and simplicity of that life. The gentle breeze of the wind, the familiarity between neighbors in this small town where everyone knew everyone else, the mutual aid that existed between them, the joy of life that came out of it. Clark had always told himself that his village was one of those rare little bubbles that the darkness of the world could not penetrate.

Clark let himself fall on his bed and took his head in his hands. No, he couldn't last more than three weeks on the farm. Already when he stayed to help his mother, all he wanted to do while he was there was go home. His home. A military base. In the end, Clark had no ties to anyone. His mother must have been the only civilian with whom he still had regular contact.

In the end, there weren't many people with whom he had any ties. He had made more friends in Iraq than in America. It was quite ridiculous. He would have even less of a social life back home, that's for sure. He was already happy that his friends were here today. Already, to make him forget what he had gone through, and also to make it less painful to live through.

He would see them again, just now, encouraging him to sing traditional Christmas carols with them, to tell funny anecdotes around a meal that was still as bad as ever, and for the moment, it created a real warm atmosphere. It was one of the few Christmas experiences at the front where Clark had participated. And then... it only took a moment for him to remember what he had done.

Then he was gone. He didn't have the heart to keep having fun while he searched the entrails of ten people. He was ashamed of himself. He was filthy. He looked up when he heard the door open on Bruce. Clark turned his head away.

The silence between them was really weighing on Clark. Too heavy. He got up and thought of finding another place to be alone for a while. But Bruce stayed in the way.

"Stay. "

Bruce was talking to him for the first time in days. Clark clenched his jaw to restrain himself.

"Do I exist for you again? Cool. But no thanks, I don't have your talent for ignoring people. "

He couldn't contain his bitterness as it echoed in his voice. Bruce, on the other hand, was always indecipherable. But when he pretended to leave, the sniper held him by the arm.

"Clark, wait... I'm... I'm sorry. "

It was so unexpected that it broke the control Clark had over him. He felt the tears rising as his vision blurred. He broke free violently from Bruce's hold.

"Are you sorry Bruce?! Sorry?! Fuck, after what I've been through I would have thought you'd be here! I thought you were my friend! I thought that... I thought we had... we were... I needed you, Bruce! "

His chest was clutching his heart like a vice and to his face, Bruce didn't even react. Clark had a sudden urge to hit him just to change his face.

"I know I screwed up. But I couldn't look you in the face knowing that...I should have seen it hurt you. I should've thought about it and I didn't check and…"

This time Bruce's face revealed his shame and guilt. Clark stepped back.

"You ignored me for that?! Are you serious?! "

Bruce moved closer, his gray pupils staring at him:

"You could have died, Clark! "

"Just like that! I could have died! I could have stayed there because I found myself plunging my hands into decomposing bodies, one after the other, to get some fucking explosives! Do you know what that feels like? To touch those dead organs, to open their skin to search the viscera, among the maggots, to have to do that in kids' bodies! Children! Children who have been stuffed with explosives! With each time the fear in their stomachs that it would explode! "

Clark burst into tears. Without warning. He burst into tears, letting his emotions come out for the first time since the incident. He then felt Bruce wrapping his arms around him. Clark cried too much to push him away. In truth, it was what he needed. That touch, that comforting embrace, Bruce's presence.

Slowly they let themselves fall to the ground without breaking their embrace. Bruce held Clark tightly as Clark flooded his neck and shoulder with tears.

"I'm here, Clark. Late, but I'm here now. "

Bruce slid his hand down the back of Clark's neck. They remained silent, huddled together, paying no attention to the passing of time.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark was awakened by the beginnings of aches and pains he had. He was still up against Bruce, who was still hugging him as he passed his hand along the back of his neck. It was nice. It was really nice. He was feeling lighter and better. The presence of the sniper had finally calmed him down, even though it wasn't going to do much to make him feel better. But he was still there.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his head still in Bruce's neck.

Bruce didn't stop moving, probably because Clark hadn't done anything to move. He could then hear Bruce's amusement in his voice:

"So you're awake? "

Clark decided it was time to move before he became too ridiculous.

"How long did I fall asleep? "

Bruce shrugged his shoulders.

"A few minutes. "

And yet Clark's muscles seemed to be screaming that it had been longer than that. But now that he was calm and awake, there was no longer any reason to justify his position or his connection with Bruce. And yet, he really would have liked to stay where he was. But he stood up, passing a hand over his face to wipe away the last traces of his tears.

"I'm going to wash my face. "

He went to the bathroom and passed water over his face. He was hot. He wanted to stay close to Bruce. He wanted to stay in his arms, still feel his fingers on his neck... Unconsciously, he touched the area, as if he could feel Bruce's touch under his fingers. He then closed his eyes, thinking that he was making a serious mistake. Bruce was his superior. He had to keep the correct distance from him.

He came out of the bathroom. Bruce was changing for bed. It wasn't the first time Clark had seen Bruce's bare back or his scars. It wasn't the first time he had considered touching them either. But he'd imagined it with his fingertips. Not with the skin on his chest.

This thought led to a cascade of other thoughts that he had never had before and that he had never allowed himself to have. He walked over to the bed and sat there with his head in his hands. Damn it.

"Are you okay? "

Clark froze for a moment before raising his head.

"Yes, thank you. "

Bruce stared at him with his steely gaze. Totally gray. His gaze could be so changeable, in terms of color. It was a unique and beautiful look. He smiled as he understood what emotions were changing this color.

"Are you worried? "

The sniper grunted before answering:

"Yes. "

The firm tone he had taken amused Clark and it was enough to relax him.

"Actually, I thought it was your anger that was changing the color of your eyes, but worry does that too. "

He smiled broadly, proud of his find. Across the way, Bruce just shrugged his shoulders.

"Perhaps. Finally it was better when you were asleep. "

Clark had long guessed that Bruce didn't like to talk about his feelings. He changed the subject.

"Yes, I'm going to bed now. "

He got ready for it, and when he crawled into bed against the wall, he realized they didn't belong there. That the two beds were their beds. They changed all the time, depending on who went to bed first. He slept in the same sheets as Bruce. They had his scent.

Clark froze again at this thought, and even more so when he saw the light go out and Bruce take his place in the next bed. It was weird for Clark. For the first time, his perception of Bruce was changing, and it was changing too much. It was probably emotional. That must have been it. He'd get over it. But when he closed his eyes, he imagined Bruce hugging him again.

* * *

**_Day 80 (12/25)_ **

He had had a restless night. It was the first time he had fallen asleep without taking the sleeping pills. With everything that had happened last night, he had forgotten to take them. So far, they had really helped him.

"Here. Merry Christmas. "

Bruce put a cup of coffee in front of him with a funny look on his face.

"Thank you. Sorry I don't have a present for you. But Merry Christmas to you too. "

Clark took his coffee while they were sitting at one of the mess tables. It was quite chilly and many of the soldiers hadn't gotten up yet, preferring to skip breakfast to get a few more minutes of sleep. Clark held back a yawn.

"Enjoy your days off to rest. "

He nodded, rubbing his eyes.

"You're right. I admit I'm slammed. "

And from the look on Bruce's face, he suspected that the sniper knew it. It must have been obvious, like on his face. Bruce must not have slept very well last night either, probably because of him.

Clark thought back to the night before. Ever since he'd cracked in Bruce's arms, Bruce had been acting as if the days when he'd ignored him hadn't come. If it had irritated Clark at first, he had come to understand that Bruce had acted this way because he blamed himself for his lack of alertness and that his spontaneous reaction to it was isolation. Clark was in no position to judge Bruce on that, since he tended to do the same thing.

"Do they hurt you? "

Clark came back to earth and didn't understand the question. He frowned and Bruce answered his silent question.

"Your hands. Do they hurt? "

The deminer looked at his hands, which were no longer bandaged, and thought about what Bruce had told him the day before. He shook his head negatively.

"No, I'm okay. It pulls a bit sometimes when I handle and it's very sensitive despite the bandages, but it's manageable. "

He looked at the burn marks still present, making his skin completely raw and discolored. As a reflex, he crossed his arms to hide them. He had difficulty accepting their condition himself, even though it was temporary. It didn't escape Bruce's gaze. He was about to make a comment when Jones arrived:

"Sorry Wayne, I need you. Get your team together, I'll debrief you on the way. "

Bruce nodded his head and did so. Clark watched him leave, a weight off his mind, and it was really good for him to get along with Bruce again. He couldn't hold back a smile and thought that maybe the magic of Christmas had worked here.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

He had continued the inventory that Jones had given him to do. It took a long time, but Clark wrapped it up during the day. He felt tired after finishing it and thought that a nap wouldn't hurt him. That's what the layoff was for. It was a really refreshing sleep. That's why he didn't hear Wayne come back.

When he opened his eyes again, Bruce was there. He was obviously writing his report, but Clark caught his attention as he moved. He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling Bruce's scrutinizing gaze.

"You look better than you did this morning. It's been good for you. "

He nodded. He saw Bruce's gaze on his hands again. It was a random discoloration of his skin, in places bright pink or even red. He shook his hands.

"It's clear they're not pretty to look at. "

Bruce got up and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands in his own. He caressed them with his fingertips, with a softness that surprised Clark. The gesture itself surprised him even more.

"They will heal. But if you go back to the field, you'll have to protect them. Your skin is thin and fragile. You'll also need to put a lot of cream on to moisturize them. "

Clark smiles. That was his doctor's advice too.

"I would do that, Dr. Wayne. But the gloves might be a little tricky. We never work with them, they're too thick, it can be disabling. We can't afford to complicate things in this kind of situation. "

The Major nodded his head.

"I understand. "

Bruce straightened up and let go of Clark's hands. He returned to the office to write his report. The bomb squad watched him work again, focused on his job. He took his head in his hands and said he was really looking forward to going back to work.

* * *

**_Day 82 (27/12)_ **

Clark had to admit to himself, he didn't know how to do nothing. He had always had something to do and now he was going around and around in circles in the camp. He couldn't take it anymore. He was going to crack. So, since he didn't know what to do, he thought that maybe he could make sure he went back to the field sooner. But before that, he would have to convince Hamilton, and then he would have to come back for another visit with Magnus, the psychotherapist. Bummer.

He had no other choice if he didn't want to die of boredom. He had already reviewed the two EODs they had available, gone through absolutely all of his equipment and materials, and even ended up looking at the report that the explosives disposal experts had done when they had gone after them on his last mission. He had learned more about the chemical reactions between the components of the TATP and now he would be more careful in the future.

After that, he didn't know what to do. He had helped some soldiers with inventory, he had resumed training without too much effort, and it seemed to be going pretty well. So, maybe he had a good chance at the medical check-up. He had to try. And then take care of Magnus.

He lay down on the table in front of him and breathed a sigh of despair.

"You're still stuck on your doctor story ?" Ollie asked as he looked at the pictures in an Arab car magazine.

With his head against the table, Clark's answer was slightly distorted:

"Yeah, they're boring to convince in general. "

Hal, who was cleaning all the parts of his handgun, commented:

"You look pretty good to me, in spite of your beaten-dog look. Try your luck. "

Clark growled.

"It's that stupid shrink... I don't feel him. "

Hal shrugged. Ollie replied:

"I don't know him, I confess. But I do know that he had helped John. When he had to shoot a child... Well, we all have that fear. If John is the best sniper, the weight of the title weighs heavily on his shoulders. "

Clark straightened up. He didn't think John Stewart had had this kind of trouble. Ollie took his eyes off the magazine and stuck his green eyes in his own:

"Do your physical and go see this guy. You'll see what happens. "

Clark nodded and stood up: the sooner it's done, the better.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Hamilton pulled his stethoscope out of Clark's skin and he lowered his shirt.

"Well, everything looks okay to me. Your throat seems to be healed, you don't seem to have any respiratory complications and your hands are healing nicely. "

Clark had a big smile on his face.

"So you're declaring me fit to return to the field? "

Hamilton looked contrite.

"Normally I wouldn't have seen you for a few days. But since you seem to be healing very quickly... All you will need is the approval of Dr. Magnus. However, be careful with your hands, your skin remains fragile in places and you can easily hurt yourself. "

Clark nodded his head and the doctor in front of him signed the authorization sheet and gave it to Clark, who carefully retrieved it.

"Thank you Doctor! "

Clark hurried out the door for fear that the doctor might change his mind.

He rushed to Magnus' office and waited for his interview with another soldier to end. He waited a long time. He waited outside the barracks, watching Wayne smoke from a distance as he spoke with Palmer. Clark thought to himself that Bruce was no longer smoking in his presence. He would always walk away from him to smoke and would even leave the barracks to keep the smoke out. He wondered if he was the reason for this.

The door opened and the soldier came out, followed by Magnus.

"Oh, Sergeant Kent. You wanted to see me? "

Clark greeted him and nodded.

"I'd like your permission to return to the field. I'm physically fit and I need your approval to be psychologically fit. "

Magnus laughed and Clark thought he had just started a long conversation.

"You want me to declare you fit when I haven't even talked to you for more than five minutes? I'm still a professional, Sergeant. I would have been at the door a long time ago if I was just signing papers at the soldiers' request. I'm going for coffee, would you join me? "

Clark clenched his jaw.

"I don't really have a choice. "

He followed Magnus and had coffee too. Then they moved to a secluded corner in the middle of all the camp activity. It wasn't exactly quiet, but Clark knew the setting was supposed to make him more comfortable. But it didn't make him more relaxed.

"So tell me, Sergeant, was there anyone you could talk to? "

Clark held a sigh.

"A minimum. It was enough to make me feel better. I'm supported and it helps me. "

Magnus had a piercing look in his eyes. But Clark was determined to get his paper.

"And how do you sleep at night? Do you take sleeping pills? "

He clenched his jaw before answering:

"I haven't been on sleeping pills for a few days. "

"So how do you sleep at night? "

Clark knew it was useless to lie. His dark circles spoke for him anyway.

"It's restless. But my sleep won't keep me from doing my job properly. I've been through worse."

Magnus pouting as he drank his coffee.

"And just how do you feel in the face of difficult working conditions? All this pressure you feel every day, it must be a burden for you. "

Clark also drinks a few sips of his coffee.

"That's my job. I risk my life every time I get close to explosives. If it was too heavy for me, do you honestly think I'd do anything to go back? I'm certainly not suicidal. If my mind doesn't follow, I'm not good at what I do. "

The psychotherapist nodded.

"You say that now. But who's to say that once you're in the field, you won't lose your way? Can you guarantee me that by defusing a bomb, you won't be in danger of bending? "

Clark didn't expect that question. He straightened up, this time thinking seriously. Damn it. If boredom had motivated him to get back on the field, it didn't mean he'd be strong enough to face it head-on. But then... it was a bad chain of circumstances, wasn't it? He was hoping for it. He sighed, suddenly defeatist.

"No, I can't guarantee that. I wouldn't say that this whole episode is behind me. "

He finished his coffee in one go. Would he be able to do it again after all? Yes. Yes he would. Then he stared at Magnus with a determined look:

"But I know that if I'm faced with a bomb, I'll do whatever it takes to keep it from exploding. What I did last time, if I could go back, I would do the same thing again. "

Magnus nodded his head.

"What if tomorrow you were to fall back on the same scene? What would you do? "

Clark kept staring at him. He answered without hesitation:

"What was necessary to keep everyone safe. But I won't do that again. "

His last words came out in a harsh tone. He was certain he would never do that again in his life, that was a fact. He stood up, deciding that he was done with this interview that he didn't like at all. He said:

"And if I have to go back to the field and tell you that I can do it, then we're at an impasse. "

And he turned his back on Magnus. No, he would not change his position on the subject.

"Sergeant Kent. "called him Magnus.

He made the effort to turn around and listen to him.

"I'm going to give you this authorization, Sergeant. But on the condition that I can follow you and your team in the field for a while. "

Clark nodded.

"Very well, but we'll have to see about that with the Colonel and the Major. "

Magnus nodded.

"I've already talked to them about it. Wayne's not happy about it, but if it gets him to get you back... "

Clark smiled slightly at the psychotherapist's foresight. And it also heralded one thing: he was finally getting back on the job.

* * *

**_Day 83 (12/28)_ **

He was back in the saddle again. Clark was trying to contain his joy. They had just been called in for an intervention that required his skills. He and Wayne got ready in a hurry, both of them getting their equipment back. They were ready in less than five minutes.

"Here, I wanted to give you this for your return to the field. "

Clark turned around before he walked through the door. Bruce handed him a cloth object that he retrieved.

"Gloves? "

Bruce nodded.

"They're thin enough not to get in the way and protect your hands. And you won't lose the feeling in your fingertips. I sometimes used them on certain missions. I don't need them anymore. "

Clark unfolded the gloves and put them on. Bruce had cut off the tips of each finger to make mitts. Indeed, the elastic fabric was thin and nice. It was also of very good quality. He was touched by the attention.

"Thank you very much, Bruce. Really. "

The sniper nodded his head and walked out. Clark followed him, a slight smile on his lips.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoo

They were right in the middle of the road, among the desert dunes. Kent didn't like the place, it was really conducive to an ambush. And it had already been the case, otherwise he wouldn't have been there. They had seen the incredible number of soldiers still present, who were visibly evacuating the terrain. Only two units had stayed with them to protect them in case the enemy returned.

"Are you sure there was only one mortar that did not explode? None of the others are defective?"

The man to whom he was speaking made a slight grin.

"Well, Sergeant, I think so. Otherwise it would almost be a miracle that they didn't explode in the midst of fire and grenades. "

Kent shook his head, preparing EOD Jerry.

"You were lucky, sir, that none of your men died in the process. "

The Colonel nodded his head and was well aware of this.

Kent began to guide the robotic device to the mortar in question. Everyone was staring at the screen that he used to guide the EOD and with which he could observe the mortar.

"And if not, what are you here for? " the Colonel asked Magnus.

If Magnus was equipped for the field, he had the bad idea to present himself as "Doctor" to the Colonel.

"I'm here to observe Sergeant Kent in the field. "

If Kent had been able to, he probably would have hit his face with the flat of his hand.

"That's not really the kind of thing you want to say when he steps in, you know," said the Colonel.

Kent held back a smile. Finally another superior he met whom he liked.

"Five meters from the target. " he told everyone.

They shifted their attention to the screen. Kent handled the robot very carefully. He could see the mortar on the screen. He was close.

The explosion surprised them so much that they all lowered themselves by reflex. Kent felt Wayne's hand on his shoulder to lower him down. They all raised their heads at the same time.

"What happened?! " Jordan asked as all the soldiers around them were already on guard.

Kent looked with displeasure at all the debris from his EOD that had been scattered all over the place.

"Jerry... "he said in a voice of resentment.

Wayne was using his scope to check the surroundings and the location of the explosion.

"The mortar looks like it blew up. The explosion blew Jerry away too. "

The Colonel frowned.

"Jerry, is that your robot? "

The Major lowered his scope and nodded his head before answering:

"One of our colleagues named it that. "

Kent looked at the scattered debris. He was unrecoverable. This jewel of technology was costing the army a lot of money...

"And to think that I had just repaired his direction… " he commented more to himself than anything else.

No one paid any attention to his remark.

"Now we can go, the road is passable again," asked the Colonel.

Kent shook his head negatively as he turned around and walked towards their vehicle.

"Not yet, in this kind of situation I have to go and make sure there are no extra loads. And I have to get the pieces of the EOD back. I can't take the risk that any convoy will be fooled by a lack of vigilance on my part. "

Queen helped him get into his protective gear.

"We'll cover you, the area is not safe. It's always good for you guys," the Colonel asked on the radio.

" **Nothing to report. We're staying in position.** "

The Colonel nodded his head. Kent advanced toward the area.

"You have time ahead of you. "

Kent rushed forward. He knew he was moving slowly. He retrieved the most important pieces of the EOD, the ones that had electronics and the rest of the camera. The pieces of plastic, he left them behind. He also left the main body emptied of anything that might be of interest. He then wandered a little on the road, poking his eyes through the debris of the last attack. He came back after several minutes without finding anything.

"Clear ! The road is yours gentlemen! "

Queen helped Kent remove his suit after throwing the remains of his EOD into the Humvee.

"Great! Thanks guys! "

And a few minutes later, the two groups split up. Magnus remained silent all the way home. Whatever he was thinking, he was content to keep it. There were no other outings for their group that day. But when Kent saw Magnus leave with a slight smile on his lips, he had the feeling that Magnus would be back on the trip with them again.


	13. Week 13

# Week 13

* * *

**_Day 86 (12/31)_ **

Clark figured his instincts didn't fool him that often. Magnus had come back with them on two of their outdoor missions, once again. The second time, he didn't say anything. But the next time he couldn't hold his tongue. Clark finally took Magnus aside and asked him why he was doing all this. If he had been studying him in the field all this time. His presence was finally getting on his nerves.

And Magnus had finally said that it was nice to go out on the field with them. If Bruce had been able to hear that, Clark was sure he would have probably gutted him on the spot. It gave Hal and Ollie and him some extra work. While Magnus was a soldier and a psychotherapist, he didn't have a lot of field experience. So they couldn't rely on him to cover for them.

This time the shrink had not come. Their mission had been to do a classic round and indeed, Magnus would have been more of a burden than anything else. When he got out of the Humvee, all he wanted to do was sit on his butt. A general opinion of their group. They would spend hours trampling on this kind of mission.

"I wanted to party tonight... there are guys coming off the base tonight, they're going to have some fun around here. I was motivated to go, but now... "

Ollie sighed without finishing his sentence.

"You're going to take a nap," said Clark. "It's doing me a lot of good. "

Hal then grabbed them by the shoulders and led them away, checking to make sure no one was following them or listening to them.

"Look, I made arrangements with Keaton and O'hara. They're going to come back with some hooch, but keep it to yourself, okay? Tonight, if we're discreet enough, we can have a little party! "

Clark and Ollie glanced at each other hesitantly.

"Do you know that if we get caught, we're dead? " asked Clark.

"We can even risk the criminal court," Ollie added.

Hal swept away their worries with a wave of his hand.

"You're exaggerating too much here! It's New Year's Eve, guys! Do you really think that even they won't enjoy it a little bit? "

Clark pouting.

"Well, I hope not, because if all the guards are drunk, I hope we won't be attacked. "

He received a violent pat on the back from Hal:

"Fortunately for us, that's not the case! In exactly... one hour, we will technically be off duty! "

Hal's smile made them give in.

"Well, okay," said Ollie.

"Deal," Clark replied.

They were about to break up when Wayne came running back to them:

"In the Humvee, now! "

When they saw the urgency of the situation, they got busy. Clark then saw Magnus, equipped, heading in the same direction as them.

"Are you coming?!" he exclaimed as they entered the Humvee.

"I was there when the Major received his instructions. "

Clark couldn't stay as inexpressive as Bruce. His anger could be seen on his face. Ollie decided to get in the middle.

"Uh, and so, what's the emergency? "

"One of our guys has his foot on a mine. "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

At the sight of the emergency, as soon as the Humvee stopped, they followed all of Wayne's instructions. Queen helped Kent get dressed while he secured Magnus and the place, making contact with the other team.

"The kid stepped on a mine over there. Hurry up, he's had his foot on it for twenty minutes already. He's a rookie, he didn't pay attention. "

His superior, a Sergeant, pouting as he was saying that to Bruce. The mine was on the road with the soldier on it. He was barely over 18.

"Twenty minutes ?" Kent continued. "And he's still there?! "

"You're not going to send your robot?" the Sergeant asked when he saw him in his uniform.

Kent blew.

"Certainly not! It's a miracle he's still in one piece, it's far too late to send our new EOD. "

The Sergeant was surprised by Kent's irritated tone. Jordan arrived to calm things down:

"Don't blame him, our last robot, Jerry, blew himself up. As a result, our little Joe... "

"That has nothing to do with. " contradicts Kent.

He was finally ready.

"It's anti-personal, Kent. Be careful," Wayne threw at him as he was leaving. "Constant contact."

He raised his thumb and left as quickly as he could.

When he was in front of him, Kent greeted him. The young soldier was completely panicked, but he was still able to hold still.

"I'm Sergeant First Class Clark Kent, I'm here to help you. If you could hold on a little longer, that would be fine with me. I wouldn't want to end the year with fireworks. "

The little kid had a funny puffing.

"Private Henry Bell, sir. I wouldn't want to end up in pieces either. "

The soldier's voice was not very assured. Kent could easily understand him. He stooped down on the mine, releasing it gently with his fingertips.

"Call me Clark. Just keep it quiet, it'll help me get us out of here. "

That's what he said to himself as he extended the mine clearance. Way too big to be just for one man.

"I couldn't see it that big," Henry said, looking at what was under his feet.

"Uh, it's just going to take longer than I thought. Just stay calm. "

Kent dug gently to one side.

"Well. Fuck. I'm really jinxed. "

" **Something wrong, Kent?** "

He sighed.

"A big problem. It's a bouncy fragmentation antipersonnel. It should have jumped at first contact. Safety perimeter at 100 meters. "

Kent then heard burst voices. Fifteen meters away, he could still hear what they were saying. He could vaguely hear Magnus and the Sergeant asking questions and Wayne answering on the radio :

" **The mine is defective. It makes it highly unstable.** "

"I don't understand, what is it? " asked Henry.

Kent stared at the device, already thinking about what he should do.

"If this thing blows up, we'll end up with fireworks. "

Henry held back his tears:

"Damn it. "

Kent also felt his stress rising. He had to stay focused. It wasn't an IED. No TATP. No dead body. Just an anti-personnel landmine that had become truly obsolete. He tried to visualize the whole thing. It must have been a model weighing 9lb. The load must have been around 0,7lb with the shrapnel... 4,5lb more...

" **Kent, how are you feeling?** "

Hearing Magnus upset him.

"Go back 100 meters and I'll feel better already, thank you! "

The pressure should have blown up the mine. But obviously, either the pressure sensor was faulty or... the self-destruction should have lasted a few seconds longer. Maybe the system had another igniter, a traction igniter. That would have given it two detonators to neutralize. The first was the simplest. He cleared the mine by digging gently. All he had to do was insert a small metal rod into the first mechanism.

" **You can still give up if you're having trouble, Kent. No one will blame you.** "

Kent closed his eyes. He was about to hit him. Suddenly, silence fell behind him. He was convinced that it was because of Wayne.

" _Thank you_ ," he said in Russian.

He stuck the rod. Theoretically, it was unarmed.

"Henry, you're going to lift your foot when I tell you, okay? "

The relief he heard made him bite his lip. He had better not screw up. He had his pliers ready for disarming.

"Go ahead. "

Henry took his foot off. He stood next to it, breathing a huge sigh of relief:

"Thank God! "

Kent shook his head.

"Clark will be enough! Now get the hell out of here! "

Henry ran down faster than a rabbit.

"I'm staying to withdraw the charges. This thing was already obsolete before I was born! Fifties, I'd say. "

" **Already there before?** "

Kent observed the head of the mine. The earth around it had been slightly stirred, but no more. The mine had really aged.

"Probably. The bombing must have brought it up, but it never exploded. Unbelievable. "

He cut the stakes, detached the connected wires and unscrewed the igniter. He retrieved the charges that seemed to be intact. The mechanism must have been damaged over the years.

"I'm finished. "

He got up, retrieved his things and returned to them.

Jordan helped him remove his protective suit. Now that he had Magnus in his sights, he had only one desire, to gut him. Wayne stood in his path.

"I thought this kind of device didn't land in Iraq. "

The change of subject worked to distract Kent.

"I think there were some in Morocco and Algeria. But all it takes is a few crates being hijacked and stored somewhere and forgotten... In itself, it can be turned on again without any problem. "

Hal stepped forward to retrieve the charges and examine them.

"I must admit that you've stumbled upon a relic there! "

"Too bad we didn't take any pictures," Ollie said.

Kent's eyes sparkled in one go, sending shivers down his two colleagues' spines. He could dig up the rest pretty quickly and take it away. It would be a souvenir for him.

"You're crazy," the Sergeant let go, bringing them back down to earth. "But thank you. "

"Thank you Clark," Henry added smiling.

He just nodded his head and replied:

"Next time, watch your step! "

Henry laughed and his team headed back in their original direction. Wayne's unit returned to the vehicle. Magnus then turned to Kent.

"I'm sorry about earlier. "

Kent gave him a cold look, but he remained courteous when he replied:

"I think you've had proof for a while that I'm good in the field now. Today, the guy who had his foot on a mine wasn't as stressful to me as the shrink who was talking shit to me on the radio, you know? I can't handle several distractions at once. Today, Private Bell was really brave and I was lucky for that. "

Magnus nodded his head.

"I... I assure you that I wasn't thinking badly. "

Kent was certain of it. Wayne intervened:

"This was the Doctor's last mission. There won't be any more interventions. "

He then saw the stupor on Magnus' face. No matter what Wayne said, it was having an effect. He was grateful for it. But it wasn't up to him to fix the problem.

" _I could handle it on my own._ "

He had taken the risk of speaking Russian again. There was nothing stopping him from doing that, but it excluded Jordan and Queen from the conversation. Conversation that didn't take place: Wayne never answered him.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

They all toasted together as they were gathered in the tent. Sitting on Hal's and John's beds, the four of them stayed there while many of the soldiers were out. They had waited until after the meal to go to their tent and take out the bottles of alcohol that had been smuggled into the camp. It was a real mess.

The first bottle circulated among them as they talked and around the game they had finally started. It was a terrible idea, to make a drinking game. But it was good for all of them. Alcohol disinhibited and loosened their tongues a bit.

That's how they could learn more about John, who actually had more in common with Hal than they thought. Oliver talked a bit about the complicated history with his family, and Clark discovered that he had a lot in common with Bruce: both shared an incredible fortune from their family. But Oliver had completely cut ties with his family, who resented him for getting involved without taking over the family empire.

It was a sad story for him, but he had come to terms with it. He was as good as dead in the eyes of his family, except for his sister, with whom he had kept in touch. That was it. Clark thinks he was really lucky to land with the Kent.

He turned his attention back to the game: he had to concentrate as hard as he could if he didn't want to get drunk before midnight. It was Hal's turn and then it would be his turn to play:

"In my 4x4, I put: an M4, a pair of socks, a scarf... uh... an axe, a scooter, a porn magazine, a tank, some C4,... a tie, a picture of Pamela Anderson and I added... a poster of Cindy Crawford! "

John and Clark boo Hal:

"Oh nooo! We were trying to be serious this time !" John let go.

Hal folded his arms:

"Because it's serious, a tank in a 4x4?! More than a poster?! "

Clark and John looked at each other. The deminer swept aside the explanation with a wave of his hand:

"Oh well, if nobody cares... Okay. In my 4x4, I put: an M4, a pair of socks, a scarf, an axe, a scooter, a porn magazine, a tank, ... C4, a tie, a picture of Pamela Anderson, a poster of Cindy Crawford and ... a sextape of Angelina Jolie! "

He was applauded by Ollie and Hal while John looked outraged:

"You betrayed me! "

Clark made a grimace:

"Eeeeh, since we're on a roll huh... "

"You're disgusting. And respect for women!? "

Ollie tapped John's shoulder.

"To catch up with us, I'd say the poster for "Rosie the Riveter"!"

They laughed when they saw the image of the famous poster of the pin-up girl with the bandana saying "we can do it", a propaganda from the Second World War.

"Fuck you, Ollie. "

Arrow bit his tongue out:

"Go ahead and play! "

John sighed:

"In my 4x4, I put: an M4, a pair of socks,... a scarf, an axe, a scooter, a porno magazine, a tank, some C4, a tie, a picture of Pamela Anderson, a Cindy Crawford photo, a sext-

"Aaaaah! You've loooost ! " they said in chorus.

John frowned.

"It was a poster of Cindy Crawford and not a photo! "

The black man swore into his beard.

"You've confused me here with this story about Rosie! "

Hal held out the bottle and John had to drink the number of sips corresponding to the number of items on the list, 12 sips. They encouraged him to drink as he grinned. When John stopped drinking, he shook his head slightly:

"I'm dead. "

Clark patted him on the thigh.

"Come on, don't worry, you're going to make it! "

Ollie gave him a sadistic smile:

"Too bad, I'm starting! You'll be the last in the round! "

John let out a long disgusted sigh.

"Ah fuuuck. "

Ollie continued the game:

"In my 4x4, I put: a frying pan. "

And at that moment, everything went into a spin.

* * *

**_Day 87 (01/01)_ **

Clark stumbled to his barracks. He had really, really had too much to drink. It was really, really unprofessional... at all. Tomorrow, their shift started at noon. He would have a few hours to sober up a little bit...

He tried to enter as quietly as possible. Despite the light on, Clark walked at wolf's pace, his condition making him even more ridiculous than anything else.

"I'm awake, you know. "

Clark froze completely, facing Bruce.

"Uh... Happy New Year Bruce! I wish you... lots of good things, joy, love, stuff... "

Bruce shook his head, letting a grin appear on his face.

"Happy New Year, Clark. To you too, I wish you many good things. "

Clark smiled back at him and walked over to his bed. Bruce was obviously reading. He untied his shoelaces with difficulty and hardly took off his boots. It was quite sad to see. He then attacked his clothes.

"Let me help you. "

With his head stuck in his shirt, Clark protested:

"I can do this on my own! "

He pulled so hard that he tilted to the side. He heard Bruce sigh and with a movement he was released from his clothes. Bruce was right on top of him.

"I could do it," he protested.

Bruce shook his head again. Clark stood up in revolt:

"Stop thinking I can't do it alone! "

"Sorry, but you didn't look like you could do it. "

Clark shook his head negatively.

"I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about on the field! I could handle the doctor! "

Bruce approached, his eyes turning silver.

"It's my job to do this. "

"Stop it, Bruce! You do that and then you ignore me! You don't have to protect me if you're going to act like I don't exist afterwards! "

He saw the Major gritting his teeth. Clark's head turned, all of a sudden.

"I know. "

Clark frowned, upset. He approached too.

"You know it and you do it?! Damn it Bruce, I hate it when you do that! It hurts my feelings! "

Bruce didn't answer. They were close. Maybe too close. Clark stank of alcohol miles away, but he was sure he could smell Bruce. Only a few inches separated them. All of them. Small ones. Inches.

He could feel the warmth of Bruce's body. He would only have to reach out his hand slightly to touch it. He would only have to lower his head to hit his shoulder. To close his eyes to feel his hand caressing his neck. To tilt his head to touch his lips.

Clark abruptly withdraws, shocked by his own thoughts. Holy Mary Mother of God! He had really had too much to drink. He could feel his face burning so much he was ashamed of himself.

"I'm... I'm sorry. "

He moved back and didn't dare look him in the face, putting one hand over his mouth as if to stop himself from speaking. Or to try something that might even ruin his career. Behind him, Bruce replied:

"Me too. We should go to bed. "

Clark nodded. It was the best thing to do to remove the tension that had just set up between them. He finished getting ready and joined Bruce, who was already in bed. Horrified by thoughts he had never had before, Clark remained tense in bed for a long time. Until the alcohol finished its effect and plunged him into a deep sleep.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark woke up with a huge headache and nausea. He hadn't had a hangover in a long time, and he was obviously having a lot more trouble getting over it than he had been before. He left himself for a few seconds before getting up. Time to assess whether he could make it to the bathroom without emptying his stomach contents.

He hydrated to the maximum and took a cold shower. A good shower to wake him up and make him sleep a little. He felt like he had a jackhammer in his head and his stomach was loose. Drinking water had almost smeared him even more, but all this had awakened the connections between his neurons.

And he thought back to the day before. The sensations he had felt, the thoughts that had crossed his mind. Kissing Bruce. That was clearly what he had in mind. Fuck ! He loved women! He certainly wasn't gay! And on top of that, Bruce was his superior, a relationship with him would be impossible. No, he wasn't even supposed to consider such a thing!

He took his head in his hands. Luckily Bruce had gotten up early and left. He was having a hard time. He really needed to pull himself together. Act normal with Bruce. Be normal. He could do that. It was just because he was drunk the night before, he thought that, just because he was so emotionally deprived and he hadn't had intimate contact with anyone in a long time. That was it.

He got ready and went out. A coffee. He needed that lousy coffee to get his thoughts together. And also to recover physically as well. He went to the refectory and preferred to get a large cup of coffee rather than the entire contents of a tray for his breakfast. He then joined John, who seemed to be in the same state as him.

"I'm dead," John said as Clark sat down in front of him.

The black sniper's head was almost in his tray.

"So was I. How are the others? "

Clark put his head on his hand, listening to John:

"Ollie's sleeping like a log and Hal continues to empty his stomach contents. "

His stomach was so upset that just the thought of Hal vomiting lifted his heart.

"I think I'm going to do what Hal did... "

John had a small laugh.

"We really screwed up... "

Clark took a look at John's watch.

"And to think that we're going back to work in four hours... I'm psychologically not ready. "

John nodded his head and displayed a grin.

"The new year is starting well! "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Kent! How's it going? "

Wayne really had no pity for them. He made them pay in his own way for their outburst of the day before. Kent couldn't blame him for that, not when he had to concentrate and still had a lot of alcohol in his blood.

"A few more nuts and that's it. "

It took him longer to change a tire. Jordan was assisting him while Queen and Wayne covered them. They had a flat in the middle of the road. They heard vehicles coming and they were on their guard.

"They're ours, it's okay," Wayne announced.

It was a convoy of three vehicles. The first vehicle started to slow down and the front passenger signaled the others to continue. They then saw the other two vehicles pass them, silting them up as they passed. The third stopped at Wayne's level.

"Need a hand, guys? "

Wayne shook his head negatively.

"Thank you, It'll be fine. We're done, we'll meet you on the road! "

The soldier laughed.

"All right, Happy New Year! "

The vehicle restarted. They could have laughed at the joke, well, except Wayne, but they were too bad for that. Kent finished in a hurry.

"We're ready to go again," Hal said as he stood up.

They both put the gear away. As soon as they were ready, they all got back in the Humvee and headed back to camp. Kent was sure of one thing, they were in a hurry to finish his day.

* * *

**_Day 90 (01/04)_ **

The new year was off to a decidedly strong start. Much more than the other times. But here... whatever was happening on the terrorists' side, the things they had stumbled upon lately indicated that they were planning big moves. If the Marines were in charge of hunting them down, they still hadn't found the network that was handling it all.

But today, they were called for a completely different reason. A suspicious vehicle left in front of an NGO building. His unit had been dispatched to the scene. Kent had a bad feeling when he was told the target. Because it was a serious target. Because the enemy would be more cautious and would not want the plan to go wrong.

When Jordan parked their Humvee, a hundred meters from the building already, it was a monster brothel. Too many people, too many civilians that had to be pushed back. It had to be a medical NGO. All the local people came to see them for free medical care. It was a lot of people in a small area. The rangers had been deployed to contain the crowd and hold the perimeter.

"You're the bomb squad ?" said the guy in charge.

"That's right. What have we got? "

Wayne was obviously in a hurry. He was doing the right thing. The lieutenant in front of him didn't say anything to that. He answered his question.

"A car, in front of the building. Very heavy load and parked there for a long time. The tires burst. "

Kent nodded his head. He was already starting to get dressed.

"Wires visible? " asked Wayne.

The lieutenant shook his head negatively.

"We didn't see any. "

Kent was already starting to think about the type of device. Wayne turned to him:

"Leave your headset on. Queen, you cover it from the top of that building. Jordan, you go with him. "

"I'm going to deploy extra men to cover him. "

Wayne was imperturbable when he replied:

"You'd better be. When everyone is in position we'll send in the deminer. "

Kent was ready. He had already been cleared through the crowd and the security perimeter. When he saw the vehicle, completely clear, right in front of the building, he knew he would have a problem right away. But he would fix it later. In an emergency, he had to go around the vehicle.

"The building has been emptied ?" he asked.

The answer came a few seconds later:

" **He's being evacuated by the rangers at the rear exits.** »

"I am ten meters away from the vehicle. "

" **Ten meters, copy.** "

He finally arrived at the height of the car. Only one tire out of four was not burst. The weight difference was dangerous and the fourth tire would soon give way. He had to secure it as quickly as possible.

"I'll need two creecks. The car is unstable. "

The car was old and dirty. He couldn't get a good view inside. But indeed, he couldn't see any wires.

" **Okay. I'll bring them to you.** "

"No. I'll come and get them. "

He checked all the doors and windshields. No wires in sight. He tested the passenger door. Open. He was very careful when he enlarged the opening. He sighed when he saw the interior, with wires running from front to back. He never had any luck.

"Okay, I've got a visual on the inside, I'm coming back to you. "

" **Copy.** "

He returned to Wayne. He was waiting for him with the creeks. It was perfect.

"Did you get a visual on the explosives? " he asked immediately.

Kent began to remove the velcros from his outfit.

"Negative, they must be in the trunk. But inside... there's enough wire to rewire my house. A real mess. "

Wayne frowned when he saw him undo his outfit.

"Keep it on. It's too dangerous. "

"I can't work with it, I won't have enough mobility in the car and I'll risk doing something stupid. "

There was a period of reflection before Wayne helped him. When he took it off, he was already sweating.

"And then I'm dying of heat inside! "

He took some water, put his communication helmet back on and Wayne handed him his bulletproof vest.

"I don't want to rush you, but the situation is fucking urgent," urged the Ranger Lieutenant.

Kent had left his tools at the scene. He put his handgun back on his thigh and checked that everything was in place. He retrieved the cracks and ran away again, weighed down by his load.

"Okay, so I'm already securing the vehicle. "

And that part was going to require extreme attention to detail: stabilizing the car so that he could move inside without risking shaking the vehicle. To do that, he didn't have to raise it. He was just going to have to use the cracks as a wedge. It was the only thing that could do the job in such a short period of time.

He wanted to be thorough. It wasn't easy. It wasn't like he was handling the latest creeks or the ones used by the fire department, which were much more appropriate for the situation. It was pretty stressful for him. But he did it, he got through it.

"The creeks are in place. "

" **Copy. What about you guys?** "

Queen answered on the radio:

" **Clear. If there's guys around here, they're well hidden.** "

Kent entered the vehicle through the door he had opened. All wires went from under the steering wheel to the back of the car, to the trunk. A swarm of wires splitting further to the rear. He was thinking. Was he going to risk opening the trunk, or was he going to go through the back seats instead?

He took out his knife and attacked the seats. The vehicle was so old that it made it difficult for him. He couldn't get the seats out of the way properly and he couldn't get the foam out properly. But he had to clear it to make room for himself.

He turned around and checked the doors before opening them. He opened all four doors and threw the foam out.

" **Hey Steel, we're not asking you to clean up either!** "

Kent smiles as he hears Jordan's comment.

"I don't like being messy at work! "

He heard Queen and Jordan laughing in his headphones. It relaxed him a bit, messing around like that. But until he knew what kind of bomb he was dealing with, he was not reassured. He shipped as much foam and seat pieces as he could. Until he had proper access to the trunk.

"I'm in. "

He retrieved his little flashlight and lit up. Good. That already gave him a clear idea of what was going on.

"Okay. Move the security perimeter back another 200 meters. "

He had a dozen different types of shells in front of him. That was more than a dozen kilos of explosives, not counting the weight of the shrapnel.

" **Copy that. Queen, Jordan, move**. "

Kent leaned forward to get a better look inside the trunk and sighed with relief. The trunk opening was trapped. If he had tried to pick the lock, he would have blown himself up. The trap mechanism was activated by inserting a key or hooking kit into the trunk lock.

He must have already found his way around this mess of colored wires. If it was connected to the steering wheel cables, it could also be connected to the battery. There had to be a trigger. It had to follow the colored cables. Putting his flashlight between his teeth, he visualized the color of the cable and walked up to the steering wheel. He had to go over it several times. The colored cables were the same for different connections and in this general mess, he could not find his way around.

" **In position. I also have the rangers in sight. We're all OK.** "Jordan said on the radio.

" **Copy that. We're moving the civilians back.** "

Kent managed to follow the right wire to under the steering wheel and there he saw no connection. That pissed him off. He pulled himself out of the wires and managed to get back to the front of the vehicle. He was slightly distracted when he heard the shouts of the crowd being pushed away by the rangers.

" **Major, we have to calm them down, it's moving too much.** "

He checked the command to open the cover before activating it. Big stroke of luck, there was no explosion. Kent got out of the car and opened the hood. The swarm of wires he saw demoralized him.

"But how could they do such wiring?! "

It was so messy that he was surprised that they managed to make a giant functional IED. He swore that he was beginning to spot the useless wires. He couldn't afford to pull them out lightly, he had to be careful.

"Seriously, how could they not see that?! I thought the buildings were being watched, damn it! There's no way the vehicle came rolling in with all this shit in it. It was set up last night! "

He swore again as he had just pinched himself between two rooms.

" **There was a fire last night, two blocks away. The guys had to take care of it. It was obviously a diversion.** "

It was the lieutenant of the rangers, who answered. Kent nodded his head even though he couldn't see him.

"I understand. "

He said that because he realized it could be seen as a criticism. What was far from being the bottom of his mind, his emotions just took over him for a moment. Now he was calmer. Unlike the crowd.

He could hear from afar the cries of protest from civilians. The agitation was always bad, when there was an extra bomb in the equation. It stressed the soldiers even more, including him. Because unrest was always a source of the unexpected, and Kent didn't like the unexpected in this kind of situation. He really didn't like it. He also didn't like the kind of unexpected that Bruce Wayne was named after.

He swore and hit his head on the flat of his hand. It was more than frustrating. Thinking about Wayne in that kind of situation was bad. Very bad. Especially since he had been totally obsessed with him for the last three days. The thoughts that had entered his head seemed to want to stay there forever.

" **Anything wrong?** "

He froze when he heard Wayne's voice. It's clear, he had to concentrate. It was messy enough as it was.

"I'm afraid I'm going to be a while. "

And it was true. He had to disarm this mess and defuse all these shells. And it was really hard work. The longest part would be handling the shells.

" **Just do your best**. "

Wayne didn't need to repeat himself. Kent was already doing it.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was his vain. Kent had been in intervention for several hours. He was getting tired. The shells were really taking his time, and on top of that, he was soaking wet and really feeling the cold. He got caught in the rain, heavy rain, while he was working on the engine. And he couldn't dry at all.

The light had gone down a lot and he had to work constantly with his little lamp. As a result, he was working in more unpleasant conditions than usual, ending up with cramps holding his lamp in his mouth or stuck in his neck.

" **We have movement in the East. Confirmation.** "

Kent wasn't really paying attention. It was the fourth alert since they'd been there and so far it hadn't been anything special. It was people wanting to get treatment, or guys who really wanted to go that way but were blocked by the rangers.

" **Confirmed. Two men in their 40s.** "

It was his ninth shell and he still had four left. No wonder with all this cargo that the tires had burst. He extracted the explosive charges as delicately as possible and put them on the ground.

" **We've seen them before. They were here earlier.** " Queen said.

Kent listened more carefully to the transmissions.

" **Lieutenant Cosby warned his men.** " replied Wayne.

" **Movement to the South.** "said Queen.

It smelled really bad this time. Kent took care of the shell he had in front of him and removed the charge.

" **Shit, he's got a knife! Contact!** "

The first shot was that of a Barrett. As the screams told him it was chaos outside, Kent grabbed his handgun and loaded the bullet. He moved to the front of the vehicle, checking the front window, just enough to see two soldiers on the ground. Then he saw some guys standing out from the people running and pointing their machine guns at him.

He had the reflex to duck at that moment. There were many exchanges of fire and he was being targeted. For a few seconds he thought he was in hell. The glass exploded everywhere, the bullets rained down on the bodywork and destroyed the entire interior of the car. Kent, protecting his face with his arms, closed his eyes and prayed for it to stop. Praying that no bullets would hit the shells. Praying that the charges he was lying on didn't explode.

It was answered. There was no more shooting. There was no more shouting. Silence. Only silence.

" **Kent! Kent are you okay?!** "

He took his arms off his head. Obviously, he was not hit. A little cut by the shards of glass, but not touched.

" **Kent answers!** "

He could clearly hear the concern in Wayne's voice. He hastened to answer:

"I have nothing, I'm fine. "

He breathed a sigh of relief himself. He got up and resumed his work.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

He was careful in his movements. The car had become unstable with the fourth flat tire and the loads scattered elsewhere. And also to the fact that the car looked even more like a sieve than anything else. He finished about an hour after the shooting.

"I finished. If the other recovery team is here, bring them in. "

Kent got out of the car and noticed the number of bullet hits on the car. Even the front end had caught. He could have definitely taken one.

"Wow. I've got one hell of a lucky star. "

He made his remark more for himself.

" **Come back, everybody. We're done**. "

Wayne was irrevocable. As soon as all their belongings were retrieved, the vehicle started.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoo

He lay down on the bed as soon as he came out of the bathroom.

"I died. "

Clark had taken a shower as soon as he got home. Just to get rid of himself and the pieces of glass embedded in his hair and a little bit in his skin. His muscles were sore from the postures he had had to take and the long operations like that were putting him flat. And then he might as well fall asleep like that. Half dressed, sprawled on his bed. He heard Bruce drop a brief laugh behind him.

"I think I heard you say the same thing to Hal three days ago. "

Bruce took a wicked pleasure in laughing at him when he was drunk. And Clark had a hard time really laughing about it, because it reminded him of how he felt about Bruce.

"This time I'm sober. But I'm tired and I'm aching all over. It's a pain in the neck to break your neck with this bullshit. "

He heard Bruce moving. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he preferred not to pay attention to it.

"Try to relax. "

He frowned and the next thing he knew, Bruce's hands were on his shoulders. And he reached out in surprise.

"If it bothers you, I'll stop immediately. "

Bruce started moving his hands and massaging him. Clark would have liked to say it bothered him. But within seconds he was totally relaxed. He couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because Bruce's hands were on his skin and it really felt good.

He breathed a sigh of appreciation. It felt so good. Bruce's warm hands relaxed his muscles. Clark closed his eyes, preferring to concentrate on how it felt. On Bruce's palms massaging him, on his fingers digging in and caressing his skin. That warm feeling on his body that had been affected by the cold in the pouring rain.

It was good for him. Beyond the physical benefits, it also affected his mind. It relaxed him. It reassured him. It was good for him to be taken care of. It was good for him to be touched that way.

Clark didn't know when Bruce stopped. He also didn't know when his hands stopped massaging him to caress his skin. He just knew that he fell asleep very quickly, his face relaxed for the first time in a long time.


	14. Week 14

# Week 14

* * *

_**Day 95 (01/09)** _

Clark listened with one ear to another to Barry's anecdotes about his vacation. His mind was elsewhere. He was lost. Five days earlier, Clark had fallen asleep under Bruce's touch. It had done him so much good. Too much good, and deep down inside, it was something he was having a hard time accepting. He was having a hard time accepting this change that was going on in his head, this different perception he had of Bruce.

It was something that was making him more and more uncomfortable. Because he couldn't stop thinking about it, it was affecting him at work. And everybody had noticed that. He had to deal with it quickly. He had to get all these parasitic thoughts out of his head.

"Clark? What do you think? "

He turned his attention to Barry, Oliver and Hal.

"Sorry, I wasn't listening. "

Hal patted him on the shoulder.

"You really don't seem to be there. "

Clark nodded his head as Barry turned to see which way the Man of Steel was looking.

"Is there a problem between you and the Bat?" Barry asked.

"What?! No there isn't! "

He was so embarrassed that the red went up to his cheeks. He looked for an excuse as quickly as possible.

"It's just that I thought he'd quit smoking. "

Oliver turned around to see that their Major was indeed sitting in a corner smoking quietly. As for the other two, they had the same reaction: they raised an eyebrow.

"But he was seen smoking yesterday. "

"I hadn't been paying attention. "

Oliver laughed.

"You're so much on the moon !"

Barry crossed his arms, suspicious.

"Yeah, well, he's your roommate. You should know that! "

Clark shook his head negatively.

"Bruce doesn't smoke in our quarters anymore. Not since that chemical burn. "

There was silence. Clark wasn't the only one who didn't want to talk about what had happened. They didn't stay silent for long. Barry came back:

"He's awfully considerate of you, isn't he? "

Barry never lost his way. Clark had to be more careful. He was trying to figure out what to say when Ollie replied:

"That's the way he is. Stop bothering Clark! "

The de-miner was touched by Oliver's defensive stance. Barry was about to retaliate when Bruce whistled in the distance: it was the order to get ready. Barry didn't give up when they got up:

"Still, it raises questions! "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent thought that everything that was happening to him right now must have been karma. That whatever he did, he probably deserved it. But he couldn't really see what he'd done to get back at such an asshole. He was going to get it in the end.

They had been sent to secure a convoy and had had to find themselves under the command of Colonel Don Hall. Of all the groups in the Green Zone they could have helped, he had to come across this guy's group. And he was under his command. Lucky for him, this time there were no bombs, or fake bombs. He was just at the head of the convoy, with his metal detector.

" **You'd better hurry up and get moving or we're going to run you over, Sergeant!** "

Kent looked up and continued to probe the ground at the same speed. Hall was looking for him on purpose. He knew it. It wasn't the first time he'd done this on their journey and it wouldn't be the last. Hall was having fun mocking him with his classmates, leaving the radio on so he could hear it.

No one answered him. Not Kent, not Wayne, not the others. He took it upon himself not to answer, listening to Wayne's advice while he was hundreds of yards away, ambushed as a sniper. Jordan and Allen had hesitated, but Kent had made it clear to them in one move that they shouldn't react. So, for once, the escort of this convoy was silent with each other.

" **Well, except for the snail in front, nothing to report?** "

Kent sighed. I can't wait for them to reach the Green Zone. Their patrol was long and he just had to be careful that the vehicles didn't get anything. The detector did everything in its place.

" **Nothing to report.** "

" **Same."**

" **All Clear."**

" **O-K.** "

Their snipers were stationed all over the heights of the city. They were well covered.

Stupid comments from Colonel Hall did not stop during the rest of the trip. It ended up severely attacking Kent's patience. He swore. In every language he spoke. That was a lot of languages. He then heard Jordan laughing further away, having obviously heard him in the distance. The last time Kent had sworn in this way, he had lost for the umpteenth time in a drinking game.

But Jordan refrained from commenting. They couldn't afford to be on their own channel for too long. So to pass the time... he sighed. I can't wait for them all to get back to camp. At least they wouldn't have to put up with that stupid Colonel anymore...

"Grenade ! "

Kent dropped his detector and turned towards the voice, just as there were several detonations. Grabbing his M4, he ran for cover.

" **Where the hell did that come from?!** " shouted Colonel Hall over the radio.

They were all looking for eyes. No one had seen anything.

" **In the back! In the back!** "

He looked for eyes Jordan and Allen. They were the furthest away from the exchange of fire that took place at the back of the convoy.

" **I don't have a visual.** "

" **Me neither, I'm moving!** "

Kent closed his eyes for a moment. Their snipers were blind. He signed Allen and Jordan to go. They regrouped and advanced in line, Kent forward. He was the highest ranking of the three. They ran to the right and saw a man running out of a building shooting at a soldier. He fired as he continued to advance. A second man broke through to attack him and was shot down by Allen. They continued on their way.

Their assailants came from the buildings and from two vehicles in the rear. Theirs were destroyed and while they were surrounded, the soldiers struggled to push them back. Kent and Allen fired one wounded soldier for cover and continued on.

"Back! "

They turned to face three other soldiers. Jordan fired and was hit, wounding a man in front. Allen killed the second while the third had his head blown off. A sniper shot. Kent ducked towards Jordan.

"Lantern! Are you all right? "

Jordan coughed and shook his head.

"The vest! "

He and Allen lifted it up to get him back on his feet.

When Kent turned around again, a soldier ran out from between the cars. On reflex, Kent almost shot him before he saw that he was wounded and a guy jumped out with a knife next to him.

"Watch out ! "

He pushed the soldier and parried the knife attack. Kent was quick. He grabbed his fighting dagger from his thigh and stabbed the man several times with his knife. It was so automatic that he didn't pay attention at the time. Neither the gurgling the man made nor the feeling of his knife in the flesh. He quickly took it out and put it back in his holster before taking his M4 over his shoulder and pulling the guy down to a place of cover.

"Stay there! "

He raised his M4 in front of him when he heard the soldier answer:

"Goddamn it, the deminer. "

Kent turned around to see that it was Colonel Hall, whom he had just saved. Damn karma. He motioned to Allen and Jordan to continue. They were careful. They shot four more men, the snipers were doing their incredible job. There was no one left. He took his radio:

" **Nothing in sight. Confirmation?** "

" **Clear.** "

He turned to the other soldiers still standing:

"Gather the wounded. "

" **Reinforcements are already on their way.** "

Kent took care of the rest. They were really lucky on that one. They gathered all the soldiers in the entrance of a building. There had been deaths. A sad toll. Two dead and eight wounded. Including Colonel Hall, whose leg was wounded by a grenade explosion.

Reinforcements arrived almost at the same time as the snipers. Kent was helping a soldier get on board when Queen and Wayne returned.

"Are you all right?" Queen asked at once, looking at them.

Allen closed the door on a soldier and nodded his head.

"We'll get over it. Jordan was shot at close range. "

He raised his hand right beside it.

"I'm still alive, but it hurts like hell! "

Jordan smiled as everyone around him remained serious.

"Most of them had machine guns. You're lucky this one had a handgun, Hal! "

Otherwise the bullet would have gone through the vest. Jordan probably would have died.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad I was lucky! "

"You're not the only one," Wayne replied in a harsh tone. "Let's go now. "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark had waited for Hal to be examined before leaving for his quarters. Now that the tension had subsided, all he wanted to do was take off his bloodstained uniform and vest. He took off all his equipment, the top of his uniform and went to wash his hands. The dried blood was really taking a long time to leave and the last time he had any on his hands...

"It was necessary. "

He didn't turn around when Bruce told him that. He knew he was right. He had done it to save a soldier, to protect his men. He frenetically rubbed his hands together, even wishing the marks from his burns would disappear.

"And to think I saved Hall by doing that... "

He rubbed, rubbed, but his hands would remain eternally dirty.

"You would have done it for anyone. That's the way you are. "

Bruce turned off the water and forced Clark to look at him. He had beautiful eyes. His eyes were so piercing that it disturbed him.

"You're a good person, Clark. Don't ever forget that. "

His tone was solemn. He turned to leave Clark when Clark held him down.

"You too, Bruce. You try hard not to show it, but you're a good person too. "

He admired him for that. By living with Bruce, he had learned to decode him a little, and with that, to get to know him a little better, even though his behavioral changes were baffling him. Bruce was very protective of his men and when he felt guilty or powerless in a situation, he would automatically shut down. Bruce was like that. To shut himself up in his guilt.

"There was nothing you could do, Bruce. What happened was not your fault, not Ollie's fault, not the snipers' fault. They were well-placed, even if they were less well trained. It's not your fault. "

Bruce smiled slightly and moved closer. He was so handsome when he smiled.

"I'm too transparent with you. You've got me all figured out. "

Clark smiled back, a little embarrassed.

"I think it's you who surrounds me too well! "

Bruce widens his smile. His gaze seemed so benevolent. And that color... It was probably the most beautiful look he had ever seen. A look on a face so well drawn, with a particular symmetry between his eyes, his cheekbones, this oval face, his lips... He was still thinking about his lips. To the feeling it would feel to touch them, to their firmness under his teeth, to the taste that Bruce's flesh would have. Jesus Christ, he wasn't gay!

And yet nothing to do, he was fantasizing about Bruce. About his superior. At that point, he couldn't deny the attraction he had for him. He had to shut it up as deeply as possible, think about other women in the country and everything would be fine.

Feeling the panic mounting, Clark broke free from Bruce's proximity. But as he passed his level, Bruce reacted. He stopped him in his tracks and, grabbing his face in his hands, he kissed him.

Clark thought he was going to die on the spot. The moaning from his lips caught him first, and with all his desires, he grabbed Bruce by the waist and actively participated in the kiss. To that strong, longing, burning kiss. This simple touch was enough to fully awaken Clark's buried libido and his need for contact became urgent. He pulled on Bruce's hips and stuck his bare chest against his uniform.

That's when it all stopped. In a flash of lucidity, Bruce let go of Clark and withdrew.

"Shit! "

It was the only thing that came out of the Major's mouth before he left their quarters. Clark remained alone for a moment, totally confused: had he turned gay?!

* * *

**_Day 96 (01/10)_ **

He had slept badly. He hadn't stopped thinking about their discussion from the day before. He kept thinking about what had happened when he and Bruce kissed. Bruce had left immediately, leaving him in a state of doubt. But when the Major came back, he had made it clear that their kiss was a mistake, a slip-up on his part, and that as military personnel and his superior, such a relationship between them was impossible.

Clark could only agree with him, having defended himself by saying that he was not attracted to men. Now that he was thinking coldly, it was perhaps the biggest lie he had ever told. It had never happened to him before, to kiss a man, let alone feel desire. But ... with what had happened the day before ... he really couldn't deny what he felt at that moment. He would never know what would have happened if Bruce hadn't broken off contact, but for sure they would have made a huge mistake.

Two soldiers working and sleeping together was frowned upon in the military. But now, two men on top of that... Besides being forbidden, it was very frowned upon. It was a blow to alienate everyone and get beaten up again in their own quarters, or even worse. And then... Bruce was his superior. It couldn't work properly. He would be too impartial in decision making.

This situation heralded the arrival of a nameless quagmire. Bruce was right, they couldn't afford to let this thing get any bigger and risk having their military life ruined and getting into even more trouble. It was a passing attraction, a behavioural lapse they had made that would never happen again. They were clear about that.

And yet there was this tension in the air ever since. This heavy silence, this distance they put between them. Maybe it would go away after a few days. That's what he said to himself, and that's what he hoped for, too. That things would go back to normal, like they used to.

* * *

_**Day 98 (01/12)** _

It was rather cold that day. The wind blew the sand up and many of them put on their protective masks. This made Kent's vision worse, but it was still better than being blind because of the sand.

" **I say it smells like a sandstorm to me. This wind can only indicate that!** "

Kent shook his head.

"Shut up, Lantern. Last time you said that we got washed out by the rain! "

Sounding the ground with his detector, he walked again at the head of a convoy, several meters in front of an armoured vehicle.

" **Yeah, Steel is right. Shut up or you'll jinx us!** "

Kent widens his smile when he sees Allen signaling Jordan to shut up. He quickly lost it when a voice they weren't used to hearing came up: Colonel Jones' voice.

" **Stay tuned.** "

There was a few seconds of silence before Jordan responded, to the dismay of his two other comrades.

" **We're paying attention, Colonel! It's just that talking helps to relax our deminer!** "

The man concerned cast an angry glance at the other soldier, who just laughed in his corner. Kent tried to rectify the situation before Jordan was really taken seriously, but it was too late.

" **Are you tense, Sergeant Kent?** "

Kent's dark look at Jordan was significant. He replied:

"Jordan is imagining things, Sir. He is looking for excuses to argue. "

Jordan made a falsely offended face when the Colonel replied:

" **You should have called him Pipe, not Lantern**. "

Kent and Allen burst out laughing as Jordan flipped them off. The Flash replied:

" **You're absolutely right, Colonel! We're really glad you're on the mission with us today!** "

They then heard Jones answer:

" **This time I won by the short straw: Colonel Hendricksen is in charge of receiving the newcomers.** "

They had heard about it: as quite a few soldiers had finished their service, the new ones arrived in waves. The first one always arrived just after the holiday season, and after that there were on average three or four times a year. This was the largest deployment/retraction of troops in a year; the rest of the movements had fewer soldiers.

" **Are you that unmotivated?** "said Allen.

While Kent imagined Jones would answer curtly, Kent chose instead to be sincere:

" **You have no idea!** "

He allowed himself to laugh with his comrades. But he stopped clearly when his detector rang and he stopped immediately, signaling the convoy to stop.

"I've got something. "

Kent stooped down and gently cleared the sand. He dug up the wires and the various charges connected to them.

"IED. I've got several loads spread out on the road. "

He examined each connection before assessing the risk area.

"Safety perimeter at 75 meters from my position. "

" **Roger that. Everybody stand back.** " replied the Colonel.

Kent looked at the first IED, this time made of TATP. It was going to make it easier for him that the device had only one detonator for the rest, it would be quicker to defuse.

"Tell the explosives disposal team that it's TATP. "

" **Roger, Kent.** "

He was almost relieved to see that this time the device was classic. There was no mess, no useless wires, no old bomb from decades ago. He liked the classic bombs. It was a change from his last adventures.

" **We've got movement in the Northeast building.** "

Kent raised his head for two seconds, but he saw nothing. Then he turned his attention back to his IED. All he had to do was cut a few wires and then cut the connection to the other piles of explosives.

" **We have a civilian coming out of the building. A woman wearing a niqab. Her hands are hidden.** "

The full dress the woman was wearing made it impossible to know if she had weapons or not. Kent knew that everyone would consider her dangerous. He looked up to see that this time he could not deny her suspicious behavior. And that with all this wind... the fabric didn't seem to float much.

He got up on his knees and took his M4 in his hands and shouted in Arabic :

" _Stop!_ "

But the woman kept walking towards him. Kent was covered, he knew it. He had wanted to be disuasive but it didn't work. He knowingly dropped his M4 and quickly cut the last wires. He then heard from behind him the Colonel's voice speaking into a megaphone, in Arabic :

" _Stop or we'll have to fire!_ "

Kent finished defusing the trigger and raised his head to the woman, who walked towards him. He saw that something was wrong. His instincts were screaming for him to run away. He then heard the shot from the sniper's rifle and saw the woman fall. In less than a second, his legs were more responsive than his brain. He ran.

The blast of the explosion propelled him several meters and he rolled hard on the ground. At the moment, he was disoriented for a few seconds, his vision blurred by the shock and his ears whistling because of the blast. He straightened up, just in time to see another man come out of a building with a machine gun in his hand and get shot by another sniper shot.

Through the cloud of dust from the blast, Kent could not see much despite his mask, which had protected his eyes well.

"I got nothing, thanks guys! "

Kent walked towards the IED and saw the remains of what appeared to be a vest explosion. The woman was a suicide bomber. Kent had told himself to run before the device, probably triggered by a press button, went off.

"A few more meters and I would jump with the rest of the IED. "

He looked away from the remains of the woman's body and returned to deal with the other charges. There wasn't much he could do. The rest would be the work of another team.

" **All clear for the moment.** "

" **Confirmed.** "

Kent returned to the convoy and was relayed by the other team. As soon as they had finished, they resumed their journey.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark had come out of the infirmary with peace of mind. When the tinnitus he had had didn't pass quickly, it had worried their Colonel a bit, who finally ordered him to go to the infirmary. Luckily, there was nothing serious. It had passed after a few hours and he was quiet, his hearing had not been affected. However, Hamilton had advised him to see a specialist when he got home.

His hearing was one of his keenest senses and even if he had never taken the test, it was likely that he had an absolute passive ear: he was able to recognize musical notes but unable to sing them in the right tones. And this, without ever having taken a music or solfeggio lesson.

It was one of those hidden talents that he never talked about, because he had thought that one day he would probably lose that talent, and he still thought so: it was common for the eardrums of mine clearers to end up suffering the repercussions of their profession. It was a choice he had made and one he did not regret.

The deminer went to join his comrades, who were posted at one of the refectory tables during their break. He joined them as they all seemed to be immersed in a certain contemplation of the new arrivals.

"I missed something ?" he asked.

Diana was the only one among Arthur, Hal, Ollie and Barry to answer him.

"Nothing yet. We're making bets on the newcomers, will you join us? "

Clark frowned.

"What kind of bets? "

Ollie replied:

"How many of the guys in this little group are going to get lost and ask us directions in the next three days? "

Clark watched them. It was a group of young recruits. Many of them must have been around twenty-five years old. So they had little experience for the most part. It reminded him of his early days.

"You're bad, though. "

Hal shrugged.

"I bet 50 dollars that more than half would be lost, Barry 75 dollars on the same thing, Arthur abstained, and Diana bet 40 dollars on exactly 12 of them! "

Clark turned to the woman:

"You're a hell of a gambler! "

The latter addressed him with a smirk on her face.

"I like the taste of risk! "

Clark then looked at the soldiers, observed them for a while, then answered, before getting up:

"Good goin', 20 bucks says they'll be less than half lost! "

"You're chickening out, Clark," Diana commented as he walked away from them.

He laughed and offered coffee, but everyone was served. He turned around, smiling slightly. The newcomers were really going to bring new fresh air into the camp.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The rest of their day went quietly. Apart from the heavy agitation in the camp because of the new arrivals, there had been little to do for them: no one needed an escort, their guard had already been on duty for the first part of the day, and there had been no bomb threat for them.

So, they had taken the opportunity to get some exercise playing basketball and he had finally gotten out of the current game to settle down and clean his weapons. Weapon maintenance was something very important and now that he had more free time than other days, he could apply himself.

Clark had already disassembled and cleaned his handgun and was finishing the cleaning on his M4. Verifying that all parts were flawless and that it was still properly functional, he paid no attention to Bruce's arrival as he put the firing pin back in place.

"Coffee ?" asked the Major, placing a cup next to him.

Clark nodded.

"Gladly, thank you. "

He finished assembling his weapon and placed it against the table, accepting the cup that was handed to him. Still as nasty as ever, but it still felt good. That, and the fact that Bruce came to talk to him outside of work, and outside of their quarters. Maybe that tension would go away. In any case, Bruce had to make an effort for that.

"Your old quarters were reassigned to another Sergeant. No surprise if we no longer have access to them. "

Clark nodded his head. He had suspected it, Jones had warned him. They remained silent for a moment, until a thought crossed his mind. He looked around them and, hesitating to mention the subject when it might be within earshot, he changed his language at the last moment, speaking softly:

" _Perhaps we should consider changing neighborhoods_. "

He had chosen to speak Russian. It was a very different language from theirs, and he would be certain that no transparent word would betray them. Bruce pianied nervously on the table. It was the first time he had seen him do this. Bruce chose to answer in French.

" _I thought about it, but Jones refused to make any changes for the moment_. "

Clark realized that it had been a while since he had heard that language. Bruce's accent made him smile in spite of himself. He nodded his head as Bruce resumed:

" _That's how I found out that you also applied three weeks ago._ "

He stiffened. Now Bruce had caught him red-handed. He folded his arms as Bruce asked:

" _Can I know the reason for this?_ "

Clark swallowed. He was totally caught off guard.

" _You'll admit that it's tricky for me to answer, right?_ "

Bruce didn't flinch more than that.

" _Without a doubt. That doesn't answer my question._ "

The bomb squad is thinking. He had the impression that he was playing a game of chess with Bruce and that the move he was about to answer would be decisive. What a pity that he is not very good at chess.

" _I made this request for personal reasons. Why are you so interested in it?_ "

The sniper took out his pack of cigarettes, took one out by reflex but he refrained from lighting it.

" _To find out if we have any other problems to deal with so that our teamwork is not impacted._ "

Clark squinted, as if trying to probe Bruce deep inside. As if it would help him to make a face. He stopped speaking low when he replied:

" _I know how to stay professional. I think if I can put up with Hall's sarcasm and jokes, I can handle a disagreement with you very well._ "

What were they saying to each other? They were finally angry with each other? Bruce replied in the same tone, still impassive.

" _Really? That wasn't the case three weeks ago._ "

The conversation was taking a turn that escaped him. Clark felt attacked by Bruce's remarks and automatically became defensive. Bruce played with his cigarette with disconcerting tranquility.

" _What are you playing at, Bruce? What are you trying to prove by telling me all this? That you're the best of us at guessing?! That your expert eye can see and interpret everything?!_ "

The deminer's tone was threatening.

" _You are too often on the defensive. If you had talked about the problem sooner, we could have solved it._ "

Clark felt his anger rise and stood up:

" _Am I too often on the defensive?! Okay, Bruce. What problem are you talking to me about now? Because either way, I think you have your share of responsibility in it! And light the fucking cigarette or I swear to God I'll make you eat it!_ "

Clark had screamed. Bruce then took out his lighter and lit his cigarette before answering, giving the deminer time to imagine himself strangling him a dozen times.

" _Clark._ "

Bruce was always in the same tone. But when he saw the Major directing his gaze around them, Clark realized that he had drawn everyone's attention to them, including his brothers in arms and the new ones. It was like a cold shower for him. He sat down to calm down and looked Bruce straight in his ice-blue eyes. Blue, not gray. Bruce had been able to keep his cool, but not him, the jerk that he was. He took a deep breath, passively inhaling the cigarette smoke.

" _I wanted to change neighborhoods because I couldn't stand you ignoring me anymore, pretending I didn't exist._ "

He paused voluntarily, looking for any reaction from Bruce. Obviously, it didn't come. He resumed, smiling to keep up appearances, while the soldiers around them could only rely on the intonation of their voices, failing to understand what they were saying to each other.

" _But in hindsight, I'm beginning to understand that this was the best solution._ "

He put his handgun on his belt, threw his cold coffee on the floor and stood up to retrieve his M4 with a smile on his face.

" _We're really not meant to be friends, let alone colleagues in the field. You're right, I couldn't stay calm and professional with a guy like you._ On that note, Major. "

He greeted him solemnly, finishing in English and then he retired. He didn't know why Bruce had come looking for lice, but whatever his reason, Clark cursed him.


	15. Week 15

# Week 15

* * *

**_Day 100 (01/14)_ **

Clark was angry. Deep down, he could feel this emotion that he was brilliantly stifling. Since his conversation with Wayne, he had decided that if he couldn't get away from him, it was up to him to do what he could to cut the ties. He had been silent for hours, practicing meditation techniques he had learned abroad. It didn't take away his anger, but it gave him a sense of clarity about his feelings and his goals. It gave him a sense of what to do.

If he couldn't protect himself physically, he did it mentally. Somehow it made him angry to do that because he was proving Wayne right. But he knew that he would soon stop working with him and maybe even be transferred elsewhere. His loss of control over his emotions had caught the eye of many people and Jones had seen them. That, plus the requests they had each made to stay away from the same neighbourhoods, made the Colonel realize there was a problem.

The guys had been trying to find out what they had been saying to each other while they were playing basketball and so far, Clark hadn't answered them. He wasn't going to and he had shown it to them curtly. Barry realized that insisting on it wouldn't do any good and he convinced Hal and Ollie to drop it. That would give him a vacation for a while.

Clark went to his usual vantage point to look at the stars. The night was really cold but the winter sky was beautiful. He lay on the cold ground for a while, forgetting for a moment the grudge he had deep inside him.

"Beautiful sky, wasn't it? "

The deminer raised an eyebrow and turned his head towards a stocky African-American sitting next to him.

"Always, when the city lights don't get in the way," Clark replied, surprised that someone was coming to talk to him despite the bad mood that emanated from him.

The man reached out his hand in front of him:

"First Class Sergeant Pete Ross. "

Clark shook his hand:

"First Class Sergeant Clark Kent. "

Ross had a big smile on his face.

"Kent? You're the Man of Steel?! "

He nodded and grinned.

"Yeah, I heard that. "

Ross laughed. A frank laugh:

"Wow! I read your report on The Dentist, incredible! I take my hat off to you! It was fascinating. "

Clark frowned.

"The Dentist? "

The African-American nodded his head.

"This is the name given to the artificer who used human teeth as shrapnel. "

Clark frowned. Only those concerned had read his report.

"Are you a bomb disposal expert? "

Ross smiled proudly at him.

"For the past few months. Well, if I had known! "

Clark was expecting more flowers. He was already preparing a rather dry reply when Ross added:

"Still, a blind man could draw better pictures! Not super clean your layout on top of that! "

Clark was so surprised that when he saw that Ross was laughing at him, he had a hard time laughing back.

"You're a funny guy. "

Ross winked at him.

"And you haven't seen everything! "

He smiled. He liked the new kid.

* * *

**_Day 102 (01/16)_ **

Clark was having lunch with Diana. He had become quite withdrawn and that had created tension between him, Hal, Barry, and Ollie. So obviously, the young woman had been sent to talk to him. He should have come miles away to see this situation, but he didn't. He hadn't been able to.

"What's happening to you, Clark? You've been acting weird lately. "

Clark shook his head.

"Nothing serious, Di. I assure you. "

Diana was looking at him with her blue eyes.

"That's what you've been saying since Sunday. And yet you're isolating yourself like a cave bear. You're so scathing that no one wanted to come and talk to you again. "

Clark made a face.

"That was kind of the point. "

Diana sighed.

"So there's something there! "

It was Clark's turn to sigh.

"I'm really not in the mood to talk. "

"You're not in the mood for anything! Is it Wayne that makes you so angry? "

He didn't seem the least bit intimidated by the dark look in his eyes. Instead, she had a satisfied smile on her face.

"That conversation last time looked very serious, I see. "

"And personal. "

Diana leaned forward:

"Well, if it was that personal, you should have this conversation in your quarters! It's not enough to speak a foreign language! "

It was clear that she was right. He weighed down inside. He had turned the conversation upside down in his head and knew that he had chosen to have this conversation in public for some reason. He just didn't know what it was. He sighed again.

"Wayne and I don't get along and I don't see myself working well with him. We exchanged our views and that's the conclusion we came to. "

Diana started laughing, offending the deminer.

"I've never seen Wayne be so complicit with anyone before! What you're telling me now, I really can't believe it! Even by arguing you share an complicity that nobody here has. "

Clark gritted his teeth.

"You stick your finger in your eye up to your elbow. "

Diana put a finger on his lips to shut him up.

"Certainly not! In any case, you have a work dynamic that few people have, it would be a shame to waste your skills because you're getting pissed off! "

He cleared himself to speak again:

"We don't make fun of each other, Diana. Our disagreement goes beyond that. "

The brunette began to laugh.

"Stop, it looks like a couple about to separate there! I don't know what you said to each other but the outcome is certainly stupid! "

Diana lost her smile when she saw the anger on Clark's face. He didn't like the comparison. He then stood up without a word, clearing his tray: he was definitely done with the subject.

oOoOoOoOoOoOooo

He headed to the camp, where he was not likely to run into his colleagues, or Bruce. Fortunately, the place was big enough for that. He calmed down for a moment, watching the soldiers practicing shooting. That calmed him down a bit. He evaluated the shooters according to the hits on the target, their technique, their position,...

Maybe he should go out and shoot a little too. It might relax him. It would keep him busy, it would require him to concentrate. Except that what he did best was not the shooting, but the defusing of the bomb. Big deal. Their training at the military base was always miles away for the explosions. As for the training to master bombing and heavy weapons fire.

He went out of his mind when he felt a presence near him. Pete Ross would move really quietly or else he would not pay attention.

"Aren't you going to shoot? "

Clark shook his head negatively.

"No, it'll be fine. "

He felt Ross's gaze on him as he turned his attention to the targets.

"You look tense to me. "

Clark automatically turned his attention to himself.

"I don't want to talk about it. "

Pete laughed and raised his hands:

"Calm down! It was a simple remark, that's all. I'm not a shrink, you don't have to tell me about it. "

His remark relaxed Clark a little. They remained silent for a while, leaving Clark immersed in his reflections. He and Ross didn't really know each other. He hesitated for a while to confide in him, knowing that Ross would be a better observer since he was not personally involved in all this.

"I actually don't get along with my supervisor. I hesitate to ask for a change of assignment. "

Ross nodded.

"This misunderstanding, do you think it's getting in the way of you doing your job? "

He took some serious time to think about it. Clark knew it would be harder for him to follow his orders, especially knowing Bruce's personality.

"Currently, probably not. But in the long run... I'm not sure it would work. "

The other bomb squad member nodded slowly.

"So, maybe a change would do you some good. We all know how our lives might end, doing this job. It would be stupid to rush into it because you weren't thinking about it. "

Ross was right. Their fate was too uncertain with every intervention. If he made a mistake because he wasn't focused enough, it could be fatal.

"Thank you Ross. "

Ross nodded. Clark then left, immersed again in his thoughts.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoo

It was late. They had been called on an intervention in the afternoon. The tension between him and Bruce had been palpable and Clark knew it was affecting the rest of the team. It had reinforced his idea to change assignments. Even if he and Bruce hadn't hit it off, living with this tension on a daily basis was going to eat away at him.

He heard Bruce go into their room, the smell of tobacco following him closely. He had been smoking again in their room since their fight. In fact, he felt as if he was watching him smoke all the time.

"What is this?" he asked as he saw him writing.

Clark hesitated for a second before answering, without turning around:

"A request for a change of assignment. I'll finish it and give it to the Colonel tomorrow. "

"Okay. "

Bruce's lack of reaction made him turn around:

"Is that all you're going to say? "

Bruce pulled at his cigarette, his steel gray eyes pointed at him:

"You're doing everything you can not to have another conversation with me and obviously you've already made up your mind. "

He then saw Bruce walk towards the door again, throwing it at him before going out:

"All you have to do is recommend another deminer while you're at it! "

And he slammed the door. Clark hadn't expected that kind of reaction. It was anger he had just seen in Bruce. What did he want, in the end?! He put down his pen, hesitating to finish writing when he heard the camp alarm going off.

Clark grabbed his bulletproof vest and tossed Bruce's when Bruce was turned upside down again. They hurriedly got dressed, both putting on their night vision goggles after turning off the lights.

He walked past Bruce and headed for the door. Fire from the turrets raged on an enemy visibly in front of the walls. Then there was an explosion. The first one outside the wall. The second exploded the gate and several vehicles entered in force.

It all happened quickly. Without thinking, Kent fired on the intruders in the vehicles, as did all the soldiers stationed there. A car exploded under fire and grenades were fired in all directions. Another car drove about fifteen meters through the camp before stopping in a barracks, destroying it in the process.

Kent then spotted several enemies entering the camp on foot. He heard behind him the sniper fire from the various snipers and fired on them to stop their advance. It was chaos. A real chaos.

"Hold your positions !" ordered Colonel Hendricksen.

Kent and Wayne joined other soldiers, covered by the barracks. They followed the order by holding their positions, firing on the enemy to prevent them from passing.

"Grenade! " shouted one of the soldiers.

They all retreated. Kent was slightly disoriented by the explosion, but was responsive when the enemy advanced on them and fired.

The whole attack lasted no more than twenty minutes. But it was more than enough to shake them all.

* * *

_**Day 103 (01/17)** _

The balance sheet had not been very high. The alarm had been sounded on time by one of the door watchers. They had stopped a ram vehicle filled with explosives in the distance, which had surely been intended to break down the door or the walls. Instead, it had exploded about 30 meters before impact.

They had spent the rest of the night recovering the enemy's bodies, counting their dead and wounded and keeping watch. Kent had been one of them. Positioned outside near the ram-vehicle, he stood guard with other soldiers so that experts could examine the explosives. He should have done that too, but when he saw that the old pickup truck contained several dead bodies, memories that were too difficult to forget were brought back.

So he arranged with the other deminers to stay away, without really explaining why. He just needed to see something other than half-exploded bodies. Looking down the road, he could see the first glimmer of dawn, then the sunrise. They hadn't had any relief. The others were too busy inside the camp.

With all this, Kent didn't even know how the others were doing. He knew that Wayne was stationed somewhere, on the lookout with other snipers on the ramparts, he knew that Queen was okay because he had seen him with the Major, but he didn't know about the others. Ross was there too, examining the exploded vehicle and the bodies to identify the explosives used.

It was he who gave the final conclusions when he arrived next to him, his face deformed by a grimace of disgust.

"It is believed that there must have been about ten kilos of TATP. With the impact the explosion could have been more violent, but since the vehicle jumped away, much of it ignited. "

Kent nodded his head.

"If you're done here, we're packing up. Other guys will come and tow the body if necessary. "

Ross nodded, relieved. Everyone was tired. Kent closed the walk, tense. He knew that it wouldn't be long before they would get outside help. They needed it to breathe.

He took a look at their camp and recalled the state of the base next door when it was attacked. They had fared better than they had, the damage inside the base was minimal compared to the others. He then saw Jordan in the distance, collecting the bodies of the enemy. Jordan would surely be aware of the situation. The latter gave him a relieved smile when he saw him arrive.

"I'm glad you're okay. "

They hugged each other.

"Me too, Lantern. Have you heard from the others? I haven't had time to see them. "

And by seeing the look on Jordan's face, he knew something was wrong.

"Barry was hit by a grenade. He was rushed to the hospital with Stewart and Stone. "

Kent felt his heart squeeze. He blamed the shock, trying to be positive to face his fear, thinking they had a chance of survival.

"Do you know the final outcome? "

Jordan shrugged.

"We have four dead and twelve seriously injured. The rest... the infirmary is overflowing. Some of them are being sent to Westford base, they're coming to get them. "

Kent nodded his head, clenching his teeth. Jordan then put a hand on his shoulder.

"Go to sleep, Clark. Two bearings have already been made. "

Clark nodded his head. He was right. He then returned to his quarters to find that they had nothing, they were too far from the area under attack.

When he walked through the door, his heart pounded to see that it was empty. Bruce wasn't there and nothing had changed since last night. Since he had said he wanted to change teams. Clark angrily grabbed the request and crumpled it up. He took off his gun and vest, tossing his things. What a piece of shit! There was so much more serious things in life than all that! Fuck! Fuck! And Fuck again!

He took his head in his hands as the anxiety mounted. He had behaved like the biggest asshole to his friends and this might be the last time he would see Barry, or John. They couldn't die, they had to hold on. They had to hold on at all cost !

He looked up when he heard Bruce coming. Even though he had seen him at his side, he was relieved to see that he had nothing. Except for a small scratch on his chin, Bruce seemed to have nothing more.

"Are you okay? " he asked as he took his things off.

Clark stood up on reflex and nodded his head.

"I've got nothing but... Barry and the others... "

"I know. "

Bruce came closer and held him tightly in his arms. He held him so tightly that it surprised Clark. He felt him put his head against his shoulder. The contact was intimate. Too intimate. But it didn't come off. He couldn't. He grabbed Bruce's uniform as Bruce began stroking the back of his neck with his fingertips.

"Forgive me, Clark, for the last time. I just... wanted to make sure the feeling was mutual. But you've been so busy... "

Clark was too sensitive to the caresses on his neck to react quickly. To think fast enough. Maybe it was also due to the fact that he hadn't slept for 24 hours.

"What are you talking about? "

He heard Bruce's smile before he saw him when he stepped back to face him:

"This. "

Bruce kissed him. Clark automatically closed his eyes, to better feel his lips against his own, to better feel their taste, to better imprint that feeling in his memory.

He felt like he was becoming much more sensitive to the touch. He could feel the warmth emanating from the Major under his hands, Bruce's palm pressing against his neck, his fingers digging into his hip as a tongue went into his mouth.

Clark's spirit gave up the weapons very quickly. He stopped thinking, he just grabbed Bruce, sticking as close as he could to feel his touch, to embrace him even more deeply, to keep him close to him as much as possible. Bruce then broke the contact so they could catch their breath, keeping his forehead glued to Clark's forehead.

"I thought that taking distance was the best solution, but when I saw how much it affected you..."

Clark didn't answer. For once Bruce was giving himself up to him, he certainly wasn't going to interrupt him. Bruce sighed again:

"I can't do it, Clark. I can't do it and still be close to you. When the attraction was all about me, I could keep my distance, but now that I know that's not the case-"

Clark steps back by reflex.

"I'm not gay! I'm 100% straight! "

His reaction was so spontaneous that Bruce was surprised and froze for a moment before laughing slightly.

"100% ? Really? Let me doubt it. "

Clark pinched his lips, realizing that his reaction was more than excessive and more than hypocritical.

"This is only a temporary situation. "

He then saw the flash of malice pass into Bruce's eyes as his expression was more than serious. Clark realized what his words had just implied.

Being on guard is not enough to prevent Bruce's action. He pushed him up against the wall and hugged him eagerly, his hands working to remove his uniform jacket. Clark felt as if he hadn't been wanted that way for centuries. His body reacted quickly and he was quickly torn between giving in to Bruce's advances or resisting.

He violently pushed Bruce away, and Bruce let go of the sections of his uniform shirt in a creak of fabric. For a moment they defied the gaze, the desire visible in their eyes. Clark gave up. He pushed Bruce back to the bed and straddled him, taking his mouth and kissing him again. For God's sake, Bruce had lips to be damned.

Clark eagerly attacked Bruce's uniform, grabbing the shirt to remove both tops at the same time. Bruce pulled on the sleeves of the deminer and the next move, they were both shirtless. Clark stopped for a moment to contemplate the torso in front of him, caressing the various scars with his fingertips. Knife blows, shrapnel, bullets. Bruce's skin had seen many colors and remained beautiful.

The sniper was less patient than he was: he used a fighting technique to turn the situation around and get above Clark. He felt a shiver of excitement running down his spine. Above him, Bruce watched him with a predatory look. It was downright exciting.

He pulled her to him and kissed him again. Bruce pressed his warm torso against his, grabbing his hips tightly. Clark was so stiff in his pants, so tight it almost hurt. It's been so long since he's done all this. Feeling a warm body against his own, feeling desired, being so excited.

He let out a moan when he felt Bruce's erection against his own, sending a wave of excitement and pleasure throughout his body. He then felt Bruce's kisses descend into his neck. His body was so sensitive that Bruce's nascent beard, like his skin, excited him to the max. Without really thinking about it, Clark walked his hands behind his back, clinging to his skin while the other consciously rubbed their two erections together.

Clark couldn't hold back the groans of pleasure that came out of his throat. His desire was growing deeper and deeper inside him, creating an even greater need to be touched, to touch. He reached down with an uncertain hand to the zipper of Bruce's pants. Bruce bent over and let Clark do it while he tasted the skin on his chest.

The deminer could feel the heat generated by Bruce's erection. The position was not convenient for him to do anything more and obviously his partner came to the same conclusion. He stopped abruptly to undo his pants himself and get rid of them like the rest of his stuff, keeping only his underwear. Clark did the same thing, quickly helped by Bruce, and also took off his makeshift mittens.

Their underwear was wet. The excitement had built up between them so quickly that for a moment Clark thought he couldn't resist foreplay. He was too excited for that. But he wanted to get to know Bruce. He wanted to find that body he'd never touched. He wanted to see everything about that body.

Clark took off Bruce's shorts and, before he hesitated too long, he caught his erection. Bruce grunted as Clark shook his hand on him. It felt strange, it was the first time he had ever touched an erection other than his own. It wasn't unpleasant. He knew what to do with it.

First he began to slowly move back and forth, testing, discovering Bruce's reactions. Bruce, who had come back above him, had plunged his head into his neck. Clark could feel his throat vibrating as he... grunted? Bruce grunted with pleasure.

He accelerated his movements, caught up in Bruce's excitement. Too busy. Involuntarily, his pelvis followed the rhythm, his erection meeting Bruce's in his movements, through his prison of tissue. Soon Clark's hand was lubricated and the sound of masturbation began to be heard. Their breathing became anarchic. Bruce's breath on his skin was driving him crazy and all that body above him...

Bruce suddenly steps back, his short breath, the skin of his chest reddened by pleasure. And with a quick and precise gesture, he removed Clark's underpants and took them in hand. Together, energetically. Clark let out a moan before tilting his head back. Then Bruce's hand withdrew very quickly, too quickly for his taste.

Bruce's hand came back to his erection and went down his penis. Then it went down lower. Clark reached out when he felt the moist and naturally lubricated fingers around his anus. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew the instant he gave in that he wouldn't be the one above. And in the moment, even though it was very embarrassing and difficult to accept, he didn't imagine the opposite. It was a strange situation, but at the time he didn't want to think about it any further.

He gave a slight stroke of the basin to allow Bruce to go further. He wanted to see how it felt. The message got through. Bruce grabbed his erection with his other hand, making the penetration of his finger as pleasant as possible. Clark grimaced despite the pleasure he felt. The feeling was weird, unknown and disturbing. Bruce was delicate, he knew it, but the preparation was not pleasant, it was almost painful as the finger moved inside him. He waited a little, hoping that his bad feelings would go away.

He took a deep breath when he felt a new sensation. An unknown pleasure, which took his time to work its way into his head. Bruce had literally just put his finger on something. He reiterated. Clark was slightly startled, the pleasure overwhelming him in waves every time Bruce did this and added his fingers.

He got lost in the sensations. His head was spinning slightly and he clutched Bruce as if he was afraid to get lost in what he was feeling. That was true. When he felt Bruce's fingers pull away, he went back down, unwillingly releasing a grunt of discontent. For any response, Bruce kissed him. The distraction worked without a hitch and the sniper decided to take the final step.

Clark became excited when Bruce's sex penetrated him. Slowly, step by step to get Clark used to him, he tried to focus on the kiss to forget the awkward and quite painful feeling. Then Bruce stopped for a moment, closing his eyes. This guy was beautiful. Clark thought he was beautiful.

The sniper then opened his eyes again and moved. The pleasure reached Clark at the first kidney shot, squeezing his hands against Bruce's skin. The pleasure took over his whole body as they moved. Clark synchronized the movements of his pelvis with Bruce's movements. The pleasure he felt was unlike anything he had felt before. Nothing at all. Everything was totally different.

They moved in rhythm, holding their moans together, their sweaty bodies stuck together. Clark was literally swept away by the pleasure. He didn't hold the rhythm for long. He let out a long, breathless moan as he came on top of him in high spurts. Bruce groaned above him, picked up the pace, finishing Clark off with pleasure. Bruce followed him right after, releasing a long, muffled groan, giving himself a moment's respite before retiring and rocking to the side.

Clark was on a cloud. It had been so long since he had experienced such pleasure and the experience of sleeping with a man wasn't bad at all. Sleeping with Bruce wasn't bad at all. It had its inconveniences, but on the other hand, the pleasure he had felt surpassed everything.

Bruce got up to get something to clean them. Clark was still too numb to move, the new sensation of penetration bothering him enough. Bruce then lay down beside him, kissing him as he passed by. Clark breathed a satisfied sigh, feeling a wave of fatigue sweep over him. He didn't want to think about the consequences. He didn't want to start feeling remorse. He just let himself drift gently into sleep, light-hearted.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

When Clark opened his eyes, he was alone in his quarters. His nudity and numbness in different muscles than usual reminded him of his more than inappropriate sex. As if it was time. As if it was the place.

Clark felt more than stupid and selfish. He took a quick shower and got dressed, ready for service. He didn't get more than five meters before he saw Queen running towards him.

"We need you. "

The serious look on the sniper's face worried him.

"What's going on? "

"Nice suspect. In the hospital. We've got alerts everywhere. We're forced to target the priority."

"Fuck it! "

He followed Ollie and they climbed into the Humvee. Clark was surprised to find Diana in the back, but he made no comment. Jordan drove off as soon as they were all on board.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent rejected the idea of putting on his protective gear immediately. When he was described the package in question, it had nothing to do with the bag of clothes from last time. That was a commercial vehicle. It was an ambulance. Suspicious, because the registration was not in the database. Suspicious, because it stayed in the ambulance arrival area without ambulance drivers around.

The military had kept the vehicle. They had not taken the risk. When he saw the ambulance, Kent felt that this time it was serious.

"Do you know how long it's been there? "

" **Less than 15 minutes, maybe.** "

He nodded his head even though no one could see him. All the soldiers had retreated to the other buildings. Kent knew that the bulk of the terrorist attack would be here and now. With all the recent attacks, the hospital was full of military personnel. On the floors above him, he knew that his friends were fighting for survival.

"Is there any way to get backup? " he asked on the radio.

Wayne answered.

" **I'm going to see. Right now we're combing the perimeter with a fine-tooth comb**. "

Kent gently pulled himself up on the back step of the vehicle. He had difficulty seeing inside. But already he could see that the door opening mechanism was not trapped. He stepped back and carefully pulled the handle. Closed. That was just his luck.

He took out his kit and retrieved his hooking tools. A deminer also had to know how to pick locks, it could always prove useful. In this situation, it was the case. The vehicle was old and he had to do it the old-fashioned way. It took him less than thirty seconds and then he opened the doors.

He felt a shiver run down his spine. In front of him were piles of stored barrels, but no visible wires. Kent then climbed aboard. That's when he saw the time delay ignition device. He had less than fifteen minutes left.

"I opened it. I have about eight barrels of explosives and 13 minutes. "

He looked for a few seconds at the timer counting down in front of him. Good work for the shot. He took a deep breath and already started thinking about what he was going to do.

" **Thirteen minutes is good for you Kent?** "

The counter now read 12. It was going to do it, it had to do it. He had defused bombs faster than that. He just had to find the right wires to disconnect the detonator timer.

"No problem. "

Kent sorted the wires and cut the first one. Normal reaction, the timer started counting down even faster. That cut its time in half. But it was wide on time. He cut two more wires when the timer stopped. He then set about disarming the bomb.

It was a good organization. Kent snuck inside the vehicle and opened the hatch to the front. There didn't appear to be a second primer, but he preferred to check. What took him the most time was to do all his checks.

" **Kent, how far along are you?** " Wayne asked.

"I'm done. The vehicle can be emptied and moved. "

He turned around, passing other soldiers on their way to the vehicle. Then he heard gunfire in the direction of his team. His comrades had the same reflex as he did: gun in hand, they ran as reinforcements.

Kent had only his handgun on him, but he was the ranking officer. He ordered the soldiers to stay behind and cover him as they walked up the emergency aisle. At the end, he could see Jordan and another soldier firing to their right. From his position, he had no visual contact and no way of getting around the enemy.

His heart was pounding. He had a gun, but it was nothing like his usual M4. He felt less protected. It was irrational, he knew that, but that was how he felt, and in the heat of the moment, he was insecure. He drove along the wall and reached the height of Jordan, who was under cover behind a vehicle a few yards in front of him.

"How many of them? " Kent asked loud enough to be heard in spite of the shots.

"I saw four of them on that side! "

Kent nodded his head and held out his ear. Big guns. It was going to be tense. He looked at the other soldier next to Jordan.

"You've got my back. On three, two, one. "

They fired and Clark ducked down to fire on the enemy and get a first visual. The two soldiers shot one of them down and so did Clark. They returned to cover. Kent looked at the two soldiers behind him. It was best that they stayed under cover. But on the other hand...

"Okay, we'll cover you and you'll join them. Three, two, one. "

They fired again. Clark was the first to take cover, running out of bullets. He reloaded.

"Cease fire !" Wayne shouted.

Everyone followed the order. Kent could feel the sweat running down his face as he was tense. The silence put them all under tension. He then heard men moving around and Wayne said:

"The way is clear. "

They all came out of their covers, their fingers still close to the trigger of their guns. Kent freed the two soldiers who had gone towards the bomb. He walked towards Wayne, who handed him his M4.

"Everyone stay on guard. My instincts tell me we're not done. "

Kent nodded his head. The next thing they heard was an explosion at the other end of the hospital and a thick cloud of smoke rising in the air. Wayne's words were visibly heard: their intervention was far from over.

* * *

**_Day 105 (01/19)_ **

Clark laid down his gun and unpacked his things. He was exhausted. The last two days had been very trying and they had barely stopped. It was the first time he had ever set foot in his base after the hospital bombing. On that day, several bombs had exploded in various parts of the city and they were convinced that it was a test. So since then, they were even more on the warpath.

They had lost many men. The link between the targets of the bombs had not been clearly established, but there were many casualties, both military and civilians. So many dead in such a short time and with so many attacks... Clark hadn't seen that for years. It was enough to shake them up and attack their morale. That's what the enemy wanted. The enemy had succeeded. Clark sighed as he began to change his clothes to go to sleep.

"I hate your instincts." he said as he took off his uniform shirt. "I feel like you're never wrong."

Bruce appeared in the room and put away his Barrett. He too began to take off his bulletproof vest and uniform.

"So did I. "

Clark went to the bathroom first. He cleaned his hands, ran water over his face and brushed his teeth after a trip to the bathroom. He would have taken a shower, it wouldn't have been a luxury given the smell he gave off. But he was really too tired for that.

He walked out to let Bruce pass and he let himself fall on the beds. Even tired, his brain was still spinning and he couldn't stop. He was going over and over again for the last two days, their interventions, their stalking,...

He closed his eyes as Bruce walked up to him and turned off the light. A hand reached up to the back of his neck and caressed his skin with its fingertips. Clark smiled, not moving to take advantage of the emotional contact Bruce enjoyed making. He knew it meant something. That their sex wasn't just about physical attraction and desire. Tonight, they probably should have discussed what their actions were going to involve, but clearly, none of them wanted to.


	16. Week 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I'm late, I had computer problems (I had a hard time assembling my new computer and transferring my files and software).   
> In short, I hope you will enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, I think it is one of my favorites.   
> Have a nice reading ;)

# Week 16

* * *

_**Day 108 (01/22)** _

Kent breathed a sigh of relief. A false alarm. His EOD wasn't going to go off again.

"Nothing to report, I'm bringing Joe back. "

He rubbed his eyes as he looked at the screen. It was pretty cool today. He was so used to being warm during the day that he was surprised to feel the cold during the day. Maybe it was because he was tired. Damn nightmares.

"You look really bad," Prince said at the time.

Kent made a face. It was the third person to make that remark to him during the day. Wayne had been the first, going straight to the point in his cold tone. Ross at breakfast had made the remark in a more subtle way, and here it is now.

"Are you two ganging up on me today? "

Jordan burst out laughing as Kent picked up Joe. Queen had a smirk on her face when he replied:

"You look like hell for that one. "

Kent shot the blond guy with his eyes and the other three burst out laughing. Wayne called them to order.

"We're going home. "

The Major walked towards the team that had warned them. They were already about to leave.

"You've finished? " asked the Lieutenant-Colonel who had called them.

Wayne nodded.

"Yes, we've finished. "

Lieutenant-Colonel Stellan pursed his lips before saying:

"Then I am commandeering you under my orders. We're going to the American Embassy. There is a suspicion of a bomb attack. They need reinforcements. "

Wayne nodded.

"At your orders. "

Kent pouting as he climbed into the vehicle. Another long day awaited them and the situation looked tense.

He kept his eyes fixed on Wayne's helmet, sitting in front of him in the Humvee. They had slept together a few days before and since then, they had never talked about it again and they hadn't really had the opportunity with all their interventions. Maybe it was better that way. The tension between them was gone, the team was working better, and they were able to act normally.

He was out of his mind when the radio came on and they were receiving directions from the vehicle in front of them. Clearly, the situation was more serious than Kent had imagined.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The Embassy of the United States of America. This sad-looking building was really very big. Wayne's team followed Lieutenant Colonel Stellan. They went to the crisis post that had been set up 200 meters from the entrance of the Embassy, which was being evacuated and where a barbed wire and sandbag roadblock was being set up. On the spot, it was General Martinez, a marine, who commanded the crisis cell.

"General, an additional deminer was brought in. "

Martinez turned to them and frowned his thick eyebrows.

"Which one is he? "

The whole team had come. Kent stepped forward and saluted.

"Me. Sergeant First Class Clark Kent, sir. "

The General blinked his eyes for a moment before signaling him to move towards the building plans.

"Your reputation precedes you, Kent. I hear you've got nerves of steel that's kept some Marines in line. Never mind. We've already sent two bomb squad members to inspect the building. We've got Arden in the lower east wing and Johnson in the lower west wing. I'm sending you upstairs. "

Kent looked at the plans and hesitated before responding.

"There is a basement. I'd like to inspect it before going upstairs. "

The General nodded.

"Go ahead. Let us know how you're doing. Channel 2. "

Kent nodded and saluted.

"At your command, General. "

Jordan helped Kent put on his bomb squad outfit while Wayne inquired about the building. The deminer was stressed. The embassy wasn't a small target and he knew that upriver there were Marines trying to find out why and who was targeting them. It was a direct attack on American soil. This incident was really very serious, if there was a bomb inside.

"Constant contact, okay?"

Kent nodded to Wayne.

"As usual, Major. "

The officer nodded his head and Kent headed towards the established roadblock. He was let through and walked towards the building alone. He made a grimace, thinking that with the evacuation measures, he would probably have to take the stairs to go down with his heavy protective gear. What a chance it would be when he came back up.

He went up the few steps and entered the main hall. Kent must have recognized it, the inside was much more welcoming than the outside. It was his first time in the building. He took the time to look at the signs and immediately found the stairs that would take him to the basement.

"I'm going down," he said on his canal with Wayne.

He knew that the General had notified the other deminers of his arrival. Kent would talk to them when he had finished inspecting the basement. He wondered if the deminer named Arden was Stephen Arden, the guy he had worked with before. He'll find out when they get out of there.

Kent cautiously pushed the doors of the parking lot airlock. The electricity had been cut in the building and so the electronic locks were all open. He would have no problem getting back in. He knew that normally vehicles were searched at every entrance to the embassy. They had the K-9 unit to detect explosives and soldiers searching the underside of the vehicles.

Of all the vehicles visible, Kent felt he had to prioritize his actions to be most effective. If there was a bomb, it had to be in a vehicle that would not be suspected at first glance and would be unlikely to be searched. At least, that's how it would do it.

It wasn't exactly protocol, but Kent preferred to follow his instincts. He walked over to where about ten utility vehicles were parked: maintenance vans, mail vans, delivery vans for supplies or food, laundry, etc., and then he walked over to a place where a dozen or so utility vehicles were parked. He would never have believed that he could find all this in an Embassy parking lot.

He began his search. He emptied all the containers of the vehicles, searched all the trunks, opened all the parcels he had on hand that could look suspicious with their weight and size. Kent was allowed to go beyond the diplomatic protection of objects in such situations and he could search absolutely anything he wanted. Because here we were in the United States of America and a terrorist threat was paramount.

He could come across some really curious things in these packages, and Kent preferred not to be distracted by his findings. He spent a long time in his dig, until he opened a small refrigerated delivery truck. He cleared out the delivery packages and realized that there was a false bottom. He had found something.

Kent emptied all the contents outside and searched the bottom. When he found a way to knock the wall down, he came across what he was looking for.

"I've got something. In a refrigerated truck in the basement. "

He examined the device he had in front of him. The device was very carefully organized, attached to the truck for stability and seemed to be connected to a circuit in the front of the vehicle.

" **Co-py**. "

As for the explosives, it looked like a chemical mixture. It was difficult for him to assess the force of the explosion without knowing the components of the liquids in front of him and their concentration. He also didn't know if any mixing had taken place or not yet. He then noticed that the various wiring and hoses were all black.

"IED with delayed triggering, by chemical reaction. I don't know how much time we have, or what it can do. I need a helping hand."

Kent recorded everything he had in front of him from memory. To make a report, that would be extremely important.

" **Copy…ent….one.** "

He sighed. Damn parking lot.

"I can't hear you, repeat. "

" **... someone.** "

There were some parasites. The crisis station would quickly find a way to amplify the signal now that they knew the trigger was not remotely controlled.

" **I….ing... Kent... floor.** "

He recognized Stephen's voice, who was answering him. This was good news. Stephen was on his way. He looked at the different tubes and noticed that what was going to the front of the truck was a slightly wider pipe. He looked for the ends of the pipe. One was connected to a yellowish, transparent liquid and the other was going towards the car. Gasoline?

He got out of the truck to go to the front when he saw Stephen arrive. Kent showed a smile, even though behind his helmet, we could not see his face much. They didn't look like much with this outfit.

"It's a piece of shit, isn't it?" Stephen said, greeting him with his hand.

"Yeah. And we've got a front row seat."

Stephen answered by raising his thumb. He went to the back of the vehicle and climbed up to take a look at it. Kent entered the front with a little difficulty.

"It's connected to gas cans under the front seats." Kent said after opening the small skylight.

Stephen looked up at him.

"Cut them out of the cans. We don't know what triggers the chemical reaction, so we're going to have to separate everything."

Kent agreed with him.

I'll do that and join you.

They went their separate ways. Kent enjoyed working with him. They had adopted a dynamic of working together that he really liked and that seemed very natural. They were a great fit.

It only took Kent a few minutes to properly separate the cans from the pipes and prevent the liquid from escaping. Then he went back to the back of the truck. Stephen had already managed to separate the connection of one tube from the others and was trying to get it out of the device. Kent stayed back so as not to hinder him and as soon as he succeeded, he wedged the tube behind them and they went back to the other components.

"Do you recognize the products?" Kent asked.

He didn't see Stephen wince, but he could tell by the distortion of his voice when he answered :

"Not at all. We'd have to open them up to smell them, but we'd be taking a risk. Some containers are opaque, we don't know what's inside. "

"The inside lining has to be stronger than glass. Maybe it's more corrosive. "

Stephen raised his thumb to nod.

"It's possible. Let's be careful. We're going to have to take them all in. "

And that would obviously mean unhooking them all. He then heard his radio crackling along with his colleague's radio. Wayne's voice reached them very clearly:

" **Kent, do you copy?** "

"Five out of five, Major. Arden is with me. "

" **Copy that. Johnson, what's your status on the inspection?** "

" **I'm moving to the second floor in a few minutes, sir.** "

" **Copy.** "

Kent released a second tube. Stephen was already having more difficulty with his own. Things were about to get more complicated. Several tubes seemed to be of the same component and it was impossible for them to know which one was really the most dangerous.

"Damn it's stuck behind!" Stephen swore as he tried to reach a pipe.

Kent watched him for a moment.

"Wait, I'll shift this for you, go ahead. "

Stephen managed to reach the pipe and untangle it. The pipe was released a minute later. When the blond man pulled it out, he made a sudden backward movement that surprised Kent.

"What the hell is that!? "

Kent leaned over to see what had scared him. His blood only went around and his heart rate quickened.

"Welcome to my world. "

"Is that the Dentist?! Do you think it's him?! "

Stephen straightened up, standing away from a tube full of teeth. Kent easily dislodged the tube and checked that there were no others, then put it down. The tube was small, but there it was.

"I don't know. Let's wait to defuse all this before we jump to conclusions."

His colleague shook his head negatively.

"Hasty conclusions?! These guys are sick, THIS guy is sick! He scared the shit out of me! "

Kent turned to Stephen to see fear mark his features. Stephen couldn't help him like that.

"We need the special containers for the tubes. Can you get those? "

Stephen shook his head.

"You've got some fucking balls. « Man of Steel », huh. "

He got out of the truck, radioed his exit and asked to have his equipment ready. Kent blew for a second. He was really afraid it was the same guy. If it was, it would indicate so many things. And if it wasn't the same guy, it would indicate even more. He didn't have to think about it right away. He had to focus.

Kent looked at the tubes in front of him. There were quite a few left. He had a preference to go after those whose tube container was not visible first. So he followed his instincts, which so far had not been wrong. He was struggling between the different hoses but he got through it. Rather quickly, he had to recognize it. He was rather satisfied that the adrenaline generated by his fear was making him perform better.

When Stephen returned, Kent had had time to remove two tubes and was about to release a third. Stephen stored the tubes in a large case prepared for that purpose.

"I left with the teeth. I gave it to them. "

Kent raised his thumb to show him that he agreed.

"You did the right thing. There you go. "

He handed him the tube he had unhooked. Stephen put it away and closed the first case. He opened the second one and went to Kent.

"Well, we should be okay, right? "

Kent was pretty confident. They could easily handle this IED. As long as the chemical reaction didn't happen, they were safe. And by dividing everything up...they were increasing their chances as they went along.

"I think. We're doing pretty well. "

He heard Stephen release a small sigh of relief with a smile. They placed two more tubes in the briefcase. They only had three left.

"It's a pretty ingenious connection," Stephen remarked as they got a better view of the device.

Kent nodded his head on reflex.

"Very clean, very ingenious. No colors. "

This last detail really reminded him of the other bomber's technique. He was careful not to tell Stephen.

"He's clearly a pro, this one. "

Stephen took his tube out and placed it. Kent gave him his and continued while the other made room for the last tube. Then he opened the chat channel while Kent manipulated the last component.

"This is Arden, we're okay with Kent! We're going back up with the components. "

" **Copy. We'll have to do the rest of the building excavation.** "

Kent handed him the last tube. Stephen put it away and they each took a case that now weighed a lot, in addition to the weight of their reinforced cover. Stephen walked past. Kent followed him.

"We were really lucky," Stephen said with a chuckle. "Attacking the embassy. Do you realize what a huge thing this is? It's an open war, right now! "

Kent laughs back. Their laughter was nervous, but it relaxed them a bit.

"I don't even dare to imagine the faces our leaders make. They must be boiling right now. "

Stephen turned to him:

"I'm telling you, they're going to rain missiles! "

Kent nodded his head when suddenly the ground began to shake, knocking them both down. Kent had just enough time to see the roof of the parking lot fall on them.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark felt dizzy even before he opened his eyes. He felt bad. His situation was not good. He knew it. But his head was spinning so much... He could feel the blood pulsating at his temple. He was on the floor. What was he doing on the floor?

He tried to move and realized that his arms and legs were blocked. There was a weight preventing him from moving. Clark felt his panic rising and wanted to see what was happening. He opened his eyes as his heart beat as if he was running a marathon. Black. It was completely dark. A nightmare.

"Hey! HEY! HELP ME ! "

He shouted. He shouted, until his chest hurt too much and he ran out of breath.

"Clark ! "

He froze as tears ran down his temples. He was terrified. He couldn't wake up.

"What's going on?! Get me out of here," he cried again in spite of the pain.

A voice, very close to him but muffled, replied:

"Clark, there has been another explosion. We are buried! "

What? An explosion? Clark tried to shake himself free when a sharp pain in his head froze him in a single blow as he gradually regained his senses. The basement. The embassy. The bomb. Kent saw Stephen's face again before everything fell on them.

"Steve? "

The voice that answered him was really close but choked by the rubble.

"It's me. I thought you were dead. "

Clark fluttered his eyes. He had to adapt to the dark. But he couldn't really see beyond his visor, which had been broken by an object, soiled by dust and had become almost opaque. It was impossible to see. Maybe he could move his head...

He stiffened when he saw what was going through his helmet. A metal reinforcement bar landed right next to his head. He moved a little. No. The bar was _touching_ his head. Damn it. His heart resumed its accelerated palpitations as tears rose in his eyes and he panicked again.

"I think... I've got a bar in my head... "

He couldn't take his eyes off the bar that was so close to him... Clark moved. Both his hands, his fingers, his feet. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"What?" Stephen asked.

Clark took a few more breaths to calm himself as he began to clearly feel the bar.

"I have a bar that went through my helmet. I don't know where it lands. I can't move, I think... I think I have rocks blocking me. "

Stephen must have been close, because he could hear it despite the weight of the stone he felt on him.

"You must have taken a blow to the head and been unconscious. Maybe that's why you're only talking now."

Clark frowned. He would have liked to turn his head towards his colleague's voice but he was stuck.

"What do you mean, "just now"?"

Stephen replied in a sad tone.

"I think I've been shouting for help for hours... "

His voice died in deep silence. Hours?! What about help?! What were they doing?

"Did you try the radio? "

The other bomb-disposal officer answered in a discouraged tone:

"All I've got is crackles. I can move my arms, but my legs are stuck under a fucking wall. "

Clark made a grimace.

"Are you losing blood? "

There was a long response time. It worried the Man of Steel.

"I think they're crushed. "

Clark held his breath. He sensed that Steve wasn't saying everything and he felt the anguish squeeze his heart.

"What's the matter? "

Again, he had to wait for an answer. The seconds seemed really long to him.

"In their state ... I should be in pain but ... I don't feel anything. "

Clark's heart missed a beat. It was a very bad sign.

"Don't move Steve, okay? Try to stay still until we know for sure. Your legs may have lost a lot of blood and are numb from the weight of the stone. We don't know for sure. "

He was trying to be as reassuring as possible.

"You're right... "

Stephen was not convinced. Neither was Clark. They were in trouble.

Silence fell again. Clark was listening but nothing to do, he heard nothing, no shouting, no barking, no work in progress. He broke the silence after what seemed like endless minutes.

"Do you think... do you think they think we're dead? "

Stephen let out a weary sigh.

"If I were them, that's what I would believe. We're in the basement, Clark. Do you really think they're going to take the time to look for us when the embassy just blew up? "

Clark clenched his teeth. He didn't know what the protocol was for this kind of situation, he didn't know what it was like for the others on the surface. He didn't know... he didn't know what happened to the others. Bruce. Bruce would look for him. He wouldn't leave him. Clark refused to believe otherwise.

"We're going to get through this, Stephen. My team won't let me. "

He heard Stephen let out a big sigh.

"They won't be able to lift tons of rocks by themselves. "

Stephen was right. Clark would have liked to take a deep breath, but he was stuck. His rib cage wasn't compressed, but he felt a weight. He may have had internal injuries. He wiggled his toes and fingers to reassure himself. He felt numbness in his limbs, but he could still feel them. They must have been there for hours.

"We're going to be okay," Clark said determinedly.

Stephen laughed.

"You're very confident. "

Clark smiled.

"I tend to always want to be hopeful. My team will do everything they can to find me, even if they think I'm dead. "

"I hope you're right. "

He hoped so too.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark's mind was fighting fear. There was nothing more oppressive for him than the situation he was currently experiencing. It was frightening. Was he going to end up buried alive? Would he die slowly, under rubble, invaded by the cold? Would he never see his comrades again? He would never know how Barry and John would recover from their injuries, he would never know what had happened to the rest of his team, if Diana, Hal, Ollie and Bruce had not suffered blast damage on the surface. Nor would he know what their relationship with Bruce would have been like.

Clark felt ridiculous, thinking about it in this kind of situation. It seemed so futile to him. His whole behavior with Bruce had been ridiculous. He had been attracted to Bruce for a while. He had clung to him beyond the boundaries of their ranks, beyond the boundaries of friendship. Did Bruce see it that way too?

He looked for signs in his memories, in Bruce's behavior. His head hurt, but he visualized all of Bruce's attentions, all of his emotional gestures, all of his attempts to comfort him. Somehow that reassured him a little. If there were emotional gestures, there must have been an attachment that went beyond simple sexual desire. Maybe he and Bruce were on the same wavelength, but they were not good at making it clear. If so, would they both be willing to take the risk of continuing? Between their ranks, the army, the war...

He heard Stephen coughing and went out of his mind, but still hoped he could keep Bruce close to him longer.

"Clark... are you still there? "

He cleared his throat to answer:

"Yeah... let's talk a little? "

"Definitely. "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"The Chiefs... are still better... than the Jaguars... "

Clark struggled to keep his eyes open. They had been waiting for help for a long time. Hours. He had already lost consciousness twice, according to Stephen, and both of them were trying to keep talking to each other regularly to stay awake. After talking about all sorts of topics, they had come to talk about the NFL despite their dry throats.

"Yeah... I think they... had a bad season... last year. "

The Kansas Chiefs were Clark's favorite American football team. It was his favorite sport. But he had to admit that his team wasn't really excelling in competition. He looked for what little saliva he had to answer.

"Yeah... they got knocked out right off the bat... But there was a change of players this year so... "

Clark shivered. He was cold. It must have been dark for a while for the temperature to be so low. He couldn't see as well as he used to, and aside from the cold and fatigue, he didn't feel much. His limbs had become too heavy for him to move them.

"We'll see if that changes," he said.

He heard Stephen nodding with a grunt. He spoke less. Clark was afraid that every time Stephen didn't respond, he would be dead. And his fellow bomb-disposal officer must have felt that same fear every time Clark lost consciousness. Fear of being alone, in the dark, waiting for death.

"We've got to hold on... "

They had to hold out until help arrived. Since then, they should have arrived, right? Bruce still hadn't let him rot here, had he? Bruce wouldn't do that to him... Clark would get scared and rambunctious.

"Yeah... "

Clark tried to fix the end of the bar above him, but it was hard to see it in the dark. There was no noise around them. There was nothing around them. No one was trying to clear them away. They had to get used to it, no one would come looking for them. They were not a priority. He shivered.

"I'm cold. "

It made him chuckle with laughter to say that. He was rather resistant, he didn't often feel so cold.

"Lucky... "

Clark frowned.

"Why? "

He heard Stephen's little laugh. A yellow laugh. It squeezed Clark's heart to hear that.

"I wanted to... move... I thought... I thought... I was numb... "

Clark felt his eyes getting wet. It was now certain that if Stephen's spine had been hit, the damage would be irreversible. And that damage... Stephen had at least lost his legs. If not more.

"We can still get through this... We have to believe it..." he answered, his throat tightened with emotion.

When Stephen replied, Clark could clearly feel the emotion in his voice as well. Stephen was desperate.

"Clark... my arms... I can't move them... I can't hold on... I'm tired... "

"You have to hold on! Ok?... We're soldiers. We'll hold... trust me. "

The bomb-disposal expert put all his determination into his voice.

"You're right. "

They waited several minutes, then Clark started the conversation again to stay awake.

* * *

_**Day 109 (01/23)** _

Stephen had given him a big scare. He really did. For a while, the bomb squad hadn't responded at all. Then he finally did answer him, while Clark, overwhelmed by the desperation of dying in this situation, had finally resigned himself to rotting in the rubble. He felt as if time no longer had a hold on them. That they had found themselves in an infinite loop where time was no longer passing.

"Do you believe that black holes really exist ?" Stephen asked.

If he could have nodded, Clark would have.

"Yeah. I guess so. Somewhere... far out in the universe... "

Clark was passionate about astronomy. For him, he was sure that one day, we would be able to obtain proof of the existence of black holes, in another way than by lines of calculations.

"I feel like we've fallen into them... We're in the dark, time is running out and... it's like we're floating. "

Clark laughs softly in the image. It was real. He had that impression. His body was so heavy that he didn't even feel it anymore. His head kept spinning, and he often passed out apparently.

"You're not wrong... My head is spinning so much... that I feel like I smoked a 10-meter joint weed..."

Stephen laughed.

"Only ten meters?. You must be pretty damn high! "

Clark laughed back.

"Yeah, totally. "

They were silent for a moment. Clark could feel his eyelids getting heavy again and he forced himself to blink to stay awake.

"Clark, can you hear? "

He reached for his ear.

"I don't think so. "

He then heard Stephen shouting. Spontaneously, Clark did the same, without really understanding why. But if Stephen was right, two voices were better than one.

"HEY! HERE! WE ARE HERE! "

Clark screamed as much as his lungs and dry throat would allow. He even panicked to change his language, in case the Iraqi authorities helped him.

" _HELP! HELP US !_ HELP US ! "

Clark stopped and Stephen did the same. The Sergeant was not sure if he could be heard through his helmet and under the concrete blocks. Maybe if they had dogs?

Clark shouted. He shouted incessantly, until he heard noises, bursts of voice, barking. He cried. He cried because he had found hope again. Because they were going to get out of there alive. Next door, he heard Stephen laughing with joy.

"You did it Clark! You were right! "

"We did it together Stephen! "

The barks were all close. Clark shouted again.

"HELP US! "

Clark couldn't stand to scream anymore, but he did. His heart missed a beat when he heard:

"ARDEN! KENT! "

"WE'RE HERE !" they replied in one voice.

And after a few noises, Kent heard sniffles and more dog barking. Close by.

"THEY ARE HERE !" cried the same voice that had called out to them, probably the rescue workers.

And that's when he knew he would really make it.

It took longer than he thought. After finding them, the blocks of stone that had collapsed on them had to be extracted without causing another landslide, and they had to get out of there as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for Clark, the metal bar in his helmet was causing problems. They were going to have to cut it off to separate it from the concrete block it was attached to and free it.

The operation made it impossible for him to know what was happening to Stephen next door. When his field of vision cleared, he was again covered by a protection for the sparks from the bar. The vibrations of the cut and the noise made Clark fall into unconsciousness. When he opened his eyes again, he had just been placed on a stretcher and pulled out of the rubble with an oxygen mask over his face.

When he came out, the sun blinded him. It was daylight. They had spent all night in the collapse. His head had been immobilized by a large cervical collar and he was unable to turn his head to see the embassy, or Stephen, or even a member of his team. Instead, several people were checking his pupils, pulse, oxygen saturation and everything else that followed. Clark was completely immobilized. His arms were strapped down and he couldn't remove the mask to talk.

And it was among all the faces of the rescuers that he saw him. That metallic gray look above all. Unique. His eyes had found him as if he was a marked target. Clark tried to talk to him. Bruce made his way and took off the mask.

"Steve... how is he? His legs... "

Clark saw something pass through Bruce's eyes. Behind this neutral expression, he was hiding something.

"We're taking you to the hospital. I'll find out. "

Bruce was released for a moment by a paramedic to infuse him.

"You're lying. "

And when he saw that his superior wasn't reacting, he added:

"He's paralyzed, isn't he? Bruce... he saved my life... he's the one who heard you and screamed... I need to know... "

He ran out of air and a rescuer gave him the mask. He then saw Bruce frowning, a very unusual thing. Clark glanced at him insistently. His desire to know his friend's condition versus the desire to preserve him. The bomb squad got into a vehicle and before the doors closed, Wayne held the door open.

"Arden is dead, Clark. I am truly sorry. By the time the paramedics got him out, he had long since bled to death. "

Bruce was then pushed away by a rescuer and the doors closed on him. Clark kept his eyes fixed on the exit as he couldn't realize what he had just learned.

* * *

_**Day 113 (01/27)** _

Kent stared at the man in front of him. Big braids on uniform shoulders, well shaved, easily discernible muscles under his clothes and deep brown eyes. His gaze was determined and firm. The ticking of his fingers reflected his impatience. Next to him was Colonel Hall, slightly backwards, who tried to be as neutral as possible. Surprisingly, he had not yet opened his mouth. General Morales cleared his throat.

"As I told you, your information is valuable and we need it quickly. "

Kent looked at him again. He had awakened from his operation the day before and after cutting off his sedatives and painkillers, he found himself wide awake with an unbearable migraine and fairly severe chest pains. From what he had been told, he had been in a coma for several days. And then, as he was taking a long time to respond, the General would repeat again. Kent took him by surprise when he opened his mouth first.

"It was a chemical bomb with a time delay. "

The General nodded, showing his impatience.

"Yes, we knew that already. What we want is your conclusions. We are at war, Sergeant. This was a direct attack on our homeland. So if you could make an effort... "

Kent was pondering an answer when Hall decided to take a step forward. He cleared his throat to get the general's attention.

"If I may say so, sir, the Sergeant has had neurosurgery recently. If we want accurate information, I suggest we give him more time to rest. "

Kent was sincerely surprised by this Colonel's intervention that he could not see in the painting. He nodded his approval.

"I will write my report as soon as possible and send it to you to save you the trip. I am not forgetting my duty. "

The General seemed upset, and then he finally nodded his head.

"Very well. I wish you a good recovery, Sergeant Kent. "

"My General, my Colonel. "

They greeted each other and the superiors left the room. Kent relaxed.

His information was valuable because he was the only survivor of the bomber. He had survived, and on top of that, he was doing very well. The metal bar had fractured his skull without damaging his meninges or his brain. His injury was only superficial and luckily there were no after-effects. He had also escaped the crush syndrome. His body was trapped in a space too small for him to breathe properly and all he gained was a sore rib.

And that's all he had. No broken bones. Well, except for the skull. A chance like that shouldn't exist. Just because it wasn't fair to the others. It wasn't fair that Stephen suffered such serious injuries and died when he was only two meters away from him at the most. It wasn't fair.

He put one hand over his face to hold back his tears. Clark could remember that scene over and over again and everything he could remember... He couldn't tell when he hallucinated Stephen. At what point his fellow deminer had died and at what point his mind had manufactured his presence to hold. And that, not knowing where that distinction was, made him sick. Shameful.

He was plagued by shame and guilt. He then heard knocking at his door and quickly dried his tears before allowing him to enter. A nurse. She quickly checked his condition and came out, announcing a visit. Kent was still dreading the arrival of another soldier. And so it was. But not just any soldier.

"Hello man! "

A big smile stretched across his face.

"Barry! I'm super happy to see him! "

The Flash, leaning on a crutch, entered the room and sat down on a chair. His presence really pleased Clark.

"How are you doing?" Clark asked immediately.

Barry laughed.

"I should be asking you that question! I'm fine, don't worry. I'll be with you in a week. John says hi. He's still bedridden, but he's fine. As for Stone, he's fine but I couldn't go see him. "

Clark nodded. It was news he needed. Good news. He needed good things to happen again in this world of hate.

"I have a headache but I'm not going to complain about it. "

Barry made a small grin and Clark didn't doubt for a second that the soldier knew what had happened.

"I wanted to see you first. The guys are waiting outside. Should I tell them to come? "

Clark nodded. He needed to see faces he loved. Barry knocked against the hallway window in the bedroom and the next thing he knew, Hal and Ollie were inside. Clark saw Bruce staying in the hallway, but just knowing that he was there made him feel better.

"You scared the hell out of us, Steel," Hal said, tapping the end of his bed.

"It was quite impressive. I admit I thought we'd lost you," Ollie said in a less cheerful tone.

Clark smiled at them.

"I thought I wouldn't see any of you again. "

Hal winked at him.

"You could have waited longer to see us, but Wayne managed to get us through. We're going to pick up the Flash ourselves next week, and you with it! "

"I'll get out before then. Depending on my condition, I'll probably get out the day after tomorrow."

"That's good news. We'll finally be all together! It's not that I hate working with Diana, but we miss you Barry! "

The blond boy curtsied theatrically and stood up, leaning on his crutch.

"Yeah, I definitely want to come back! Well, we'll let Clark rest a little if you want him to come home soon. "

The other two nodded their heads.

"Yeah, we'll let you go. Take care of Clark! "

"Yeah, see you in a few days! "

The three soldiers came out. Clark sighed, a slight smile on his lips. He really loved those guys. May heaven keep them alive for a long time to come. The world needed nice guys like them.

The door opened again. Bruce walked over to the bed, that cold expression on his face. Their eyes met again. Clark didn't open his mouth. He didn't know what to say. Bruce didn't say anything either. Standing at a distance, he only reached out his hand to touch his fingers. A light and discreet physical contact. Bruce was there. He would always be there. That's what it meant. Clark took it that way. Like a gesture that was meant to be comforting.

Bruce squeezed his fingers tighter before he let go. They were active soldiers. They couldn't have more than emotional relationships. They were neither legally nor morally permissible. They were both playing a very dangerous game which, if discovered, could ruin their professional and social lives. But Bruce had taken a risk. A high risk that made his act even more valuable to Clark. They had no right to care about each other. They weren't allowed to sleep together. They weren't allowed to love each other.

Bruce gave him the military salute, which Clark gave back to him, and then he left the room in the deepest of silences. By this time the deminer knew that Bruce was willing to take a risk. The question was whether he could do it and whether he could live with it all. Thoughts that were futile, because deep down he had already made his decision.


	17. Week 17

# Week 17

* * *

_**Day 115 (01/29)** _

Clark closed his eyes for a moment. He was having trouble concentrating on what he was doing. He had a headache, the light was attacking him even though he was almost in the dark, and it was hard for him to concentrate long enough to observe the different shots. In this state, he was useless.

He sighed and got up to take pills for his headache. When he left the hospital, the doctor had warned him about a whole lot of things, the effects he would still feel, the symptoms to report if they appeared, and many more precautions to take. Clark would not be declared fit until a week from now, if the camp doctor authorized him after an examination. In the meantime, in order to free up hospital beds, he had returned to his base in a convoy. He had mistakenly believed that when he arrived he would be able to work.

He touched his bandage on his left temple. A few millimeters on the side and the bar could have pierced his head and popped his eye. He only owed his survival to his luck. His damned luck. Stephen had a family. So did Johnson. Why did he have to be the one to live, and not the ones who were husbands and fathers? Why was life so unfair?

These thoughts had been spinning and spinning in his head ever since he came out of surgery. His injuries were minor. And them, their condition... how could it be so different? How could it be possible when Stephen had been only three or four feet away from him?

Clark felt the effects of the medication and lay down on his bed, just long enough to lie down and let the pain pass. Even his hearing had been preserved. He had no neurological sequelae. The neurosurgeon who operated on him said it was a miracle. Clark may have been a believer, but these kinds of miracles...

He lay down for a few minutes before returning to the office. He retrieved the pictures he had of the rubble and the remains of the explosive device they had recovered. Clark knew that counter-terrorism was now taking over the investigation, but obviously they were waiting for his report and wanted it to be accurate.

While at first his report was limited to a description and analysis of the bomb he had disarmed, Clark remembered Stephen's observations and suggestions. If the bomber was the one known as "The Dentist," then there was a good chance that the second bomb was also made by him.

Clark closed his eyes again. He needed to remember as much detail as possible about the device, the location of each component, the connections, the products. He needed to use his visual memory and once he had what he wanted in mind, he began to make a technical diagram.

He heard the door open as Bruce walked into their barracks. It was the first time they had seen each other from the hospital and his superior was probably on his way home from the mission. He was not to let his thoughts wander. What he was doing was more important and he was already having trouble staying focused.

"I thought you had to get out tomorrow. "

Clark didn't look up from his drawing. But he could feel Bruce's gaze on him and sighed before answering, unconsciously sensing his terrible mood.

"The convoy was today or Friday. They needed beds so I left early. Barry won't be back until Friday, he has a test tomorrow. Unless after that you pick him up."

Bruce grunted behind him.

"You should get some rest. "

Clark had his eyes fixed on the pictures in front of him:

"We're waiting for my report, it's urgent. You want to say something else? " he replied in a dry tone.

Bruce didn't answer. The bomb-disposal expert heard his roommate get rid of his weapons and clothes and run to the bathroom. A few minutes later, the shower started running. Clark sighed again. He had to try to be more cordial, he knew it. But when the words came out of his mouth, it was with all his bitterness or anger. He couldn't keep it to himself. He was in no condition.

He resumed his work. Immersed in it, he didn't pay much attention when Bruce came out of the bathroom, nor when he got dressed, nor when he came out and lit a cigarette. His report was important. It was what might allow the appropriate teams to find the bomber and make sure he never planted a bomb again. To do justice to Stephen, Johnson and all the other victims he had made. And if this guy was the Dentist, if the Dentist was just one person, then it was even more important to do everything possible to catch him.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark didn't raise his head when there was a knock on the door of his quarters. Too focused on what he was doing, he didn't pay attention the first time or the second time. It was when he heard Hal shouting his name through the door that he raised his head and went to open the Lantern. The Lantern had an irritated look on his face.

"You could answer anyway! I don't like it when you don't answer the door. "

Clark made a sad pout, visualizing perfectly what Hal was referring to.

"Sorry. I was concentrating. "

Hal nodded his head.

"Yeah, I can imagine. But hey, you just got home, you scared us a little bit, so it would be nice if we all ate together tonight. "

In front of Hal's face, Clark couldn't resist. Because he understood what they might have been feeling. He sighed and nodded.

"I'm with you, Lantern. "

In front of him, the soldier smiled a big smile.

So that's how he found himself sitting at the table, surrounded by Diana, Ollie, Arthur, Hal, and also Pete Ross, the other deminer who had joined them when they had moved in. It was a chance for the others to get to know him, and if Clark didn't talk much, it took his mind off learning more about Pete.

"So how long did you sign up for?" Arthur asked the youngest bomb-disposer.

"I've got two years to go. "

They nodded.

"Your first mission, then," Diana concluded.

If Ross could blush, he would.

"Yeah, is it that obvious? "

"It's just that you're still very... glowing," Ollie replied.

Diana and Clark nodded as Hal added:

"And also because only new people leave for so long. "

"You do shorter OpExes ?" Ross asked.

Clark nodded and replied:

"Usually you take a couple of months, just to take a break and decide whether you're going to go back or ask for a transfer. "

Ross turned his head to them:

"So in fact, since you've all done your obligatory years, you can reapply after any assignment?"

"That's about right, but in very broad terms," Diana replied.

Pete nodded, pensively.

"And how much time do you have left? "

There was a moment of silence, when everyone was thinking.

"I still have four more months," Hal answered.

"And for me, seven," said Ollie.

Diana agreed with Ollie.

"Same for me. "

Arthur shrugged.

"Too long for my taste," answered Arthur to himself.

Clark nodded.

"I agree with him. That's something you'll find out for yourself. "

Pete frowned.

"Why leave if you don't like field missions? "

Diana gave him a compassionate smile in the face of Pete's candor.

"Because we feel we can still endure it and do our duty. Everyone has their own limits. Some will spend their lives doing this. Others will leave the army after a few years of service or just at the end of their first service. Others will be deserters. "

Suddenly the mood became heavier and sadder. Pete was becoming aware of what it was like. Clark felt compelled to comfort him a little. He smiled, tapping on his shoulder as he sat next to him.

"Come on. By then, maybe we'll be done with this war and we'll all go home! Our politicians have to be useful for something! "

He accompanied his sentence with a big smile, while Ollie and Hal laughed slightly, relaxing the atmosphere a little. But deep down, they were all thinking the same thing: even if this war ended, Human will always find a way to make another one. And with the embassy incident, they were far from being able to make peace.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

He had returned early to his barracks, completely washed out. He had not followed his comrades, who had offered to end the evening on a poker game, because tomorrow they were off. He could have, if his headache didn't call him to order. So, tired, he went home and hid in the dark to go to bed.

He didn't stay alone for long. If Bruce could be extremely quiet when he moved around, the door was far from it. The Major walked around in the dark, seemingly finding his way around. It was something Clark had discovered about him, his ability to move with ease in the dark.

"How's your head?" Bruce asked quietly as he went to the bathroom.

Clark shrugged for himself as he lay on his back.

"I've been taking migraine pills. I'm waiting for them to take effect. "

He heard Bruce turn on the tap water and was no longer sure if the Bat heard him. Never mind. At worst, he would repeat it.

Bruce came back a few minutes later, slipping into the bed next door. They stayed on their sides, untouched, yet so close that Clark could feel the warmth of Bruce's body. On the one hand, he wanted to stay away, to contain himself, to stay strong, because at home, shutting himself up was also his protection. But on the other hand, he needed to know that he could count on someone, that he had support. He needed Bruce.

He turned to him and, with a hesitant hand, he touched his chest, covered by his shirt to sleep. Immediately, Bruce's arm came around his neck and gently brought him back against him, paying attention to his head. Clark understood that Bruce had been waiting for him to make the first move.

"Don't put me at a distance. "

Bruce's voice was very authoritative. Clark, with his head against him, felt his heart beating. He was sharing an intimate moment with him. He felt like he hadn't had that kind of moment with someone in years... with Bruce. He took a deep breath to get rid of his negative emotions.

"It's not against you... it's just... I think I'm getting saturated. "

He felt Bruce hold him tighter.

"I know. "

There was something in Bruce's voice. Like some kind of resentment. Clark then felt his fingers go up into the back of his neck and start stroking him, like he used to. Bruce was so cold outside and yet so warm to him.

"You can't protect me from that. "

Clark started stroking his chest with his fingertips.

"I know. "

Clark closed his eyes. Bruce had the gift of creating a bubble around them where there was no war. Where he felt completely safe. But that didn't make him forget the deep hatred he had for the bomber who almost got his skin three times, or the horrors of war. He clenched his fist.

"I want that bastard to bite the dust. "

"I know. "

It wasn't the reaction he would have hoped for, but it calmed him down.

"I thought you had a richer vocabulary than that. "

Bruce pulled the blankets up over them, right up to Clark's shoulders.

"You're the literary one of us. "

Clark smiled slightly. He raised his head to kiss Bruce. Just a quick meeting between their lips. Then he positioned himself to fall asleep, now that the medication had taken effect. He didn't even feel like he was falling into the world of limbo as Bruce held him close.

* * *

_**Day 116 (01/30)** _

Will Magnus had been surprised to see him enter his office. Clark himself had been surprised to have considered seeing him. But this morning, he had talked a little about it over breakfast with Bruce. They had eaten in their quarters to be quiet, and when Clark had finished writing his report, Bruce brought up the subject of counselling. And Clark told him that he had thought about it.

He couldn't hide from himself anymore. His night terrors were still there, and even though he had no memory of it and therefore no awareness of the problem, Bruce was experiencing them. And it couldn't go on like that. Especially for himself. Maybe Magnus would help him to endure the time he would have left on the front line, but he was certain of one thing, it would be his last OpEx. He couldn't stand what he was going through anymore. He was reaching his limits.

And that, according to Magnus, was already a remarkable achievement for him. Clark couldn't really see what would excite the psychotherapist's enthusiasm, but as long as it worked, he didn't care. He didn't want the war to ruin him. Any more than he already did.

Now that Magnus and Clark had planned to see each other two hours a week, Clark felt a little lighter. Because he felt like he was doing a good deed for himself and that he would get better afterwards. So all he had to do to take good care of himself was to go to the infirmary to remove the staples that were in his skull. The doctor at the hospital had told him that it would be done very quickly.

After that, he could take advantage of the days off with his brothers in arms to relax. Somehow he had regained a good mood. He could then join the basketball game with Diana, Hal, Arthur and Ollie, who were playing with their superiors, Ray and Bruce. Pete Ross was just waiting for them to go 4-on-4, and in the meantime, they were rolling players.

It was going to be a lot of fun. So with a dumb smile he entered the infirmary ready to have the staples removed. He hadn't expected it to be so painful or nauseating.

Throughout the process, Clark's head was spinning. He had been forced to hang onto the armrest of his chair because he felt like he was rocking. The pain he was feeling was worse than the migraines he had been having lately and he was concentrating to avoid vomiting. He didn't concentrate hard enough.

Even before the doctor removed the 18th chirurgical staple, he had the reflex to drop himself into the garbage can to empty his lunch. He thought he could endure the process. Now he understood why patients were asked to rest afterwards.

After his small lull, the doctor resumed to remove the last three. After that, Clark was in no condition to do anything. He lay in a bed and stayed there for a long time.

* * *

**_Day 118 (02/01)_ **

He had spent the first night in the infirmary after he had his staples removed. The day after he was discharged, he spent the whole day sleeping. He had never felt worse in his life. It was like accumulating every hangover he had ever had in his life, adding a jackhammer to his skull and food poisoning.

He looked good. So much so that Hal and Ollie had come to check on him and left laughing at him. The ungrateful. They were going to pay off. And the thought of revenge alone made him smile. He didn't know how these two, with Barry, managed to keep such a joyful life. It was invigorating for the others.

He smiled again as he remembered that today the Flash was back on their team. And that was really a cheering news item for him. Diana might not be with them anymore, but the Dream Team was back.

* * *

**_Day 120 (02/03)_ **

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and repositioned his sunglasses. He was on the lookout. Ready to jump as soon as Flash was ready. The next moment, he jumped to catch the ball and made two dribbles before coming face to face with Bruce. The determined look in his eyes reinforced Clark's desire to beat him.

He feigned, stepped back and threw the ball to Pete. Pete caught it with a smile and scored.

"And now we're up by 12 points," Pete said proudly.

He, Clark and Barry slammed their hands together. Ray went to get a drink of water while Bruce took the ball back for the pledge. He gave Clark a defiant look before passing to Arthur.

"We'll get past you soon enough," he said.

They resumed play. Clark was letting loose. He was playing seriously, motivated by the desire to win and even more by the idea of defeating Bruce. The two of them would often clash, blocking each other, stealing each other's balls. The small basketball court they built became their court of confrontation.

Pete mingled with the group with ease and very quickly they all became familiar with him. As Clark tended to think, sport really helped build relationships between team members. To create group cohesion, it was perfect! Plus, sport helped them release all the tension they felt. And between Bruce and Clark, there was no doubt that there was. But it wasn't the kind of tension that the others imagined.

It had become very violent between them. They would push each other when they stopped shooting, grab each other's shirts, give each other a few blows with defiant looks. They were almost anti-gambling.

"You're not going to get it, Bat," said Clark, clenching his teeth as Bruce stopped him from firing.

"I always get what I want," Bruce replied, equally serious.

Clark passed the ball to Pete behind him, and Bruce leapt up so quickly that the African-American could do nothing: Bruce grabbed the ball and scored.

They then heard Ollie whistle so loudly that it caught everyone's attention:

"Your time is up, boys! You have to clear the place! "

Disappointment showed on the faces of all six players.

"We would have had you," Barry told Arthur with a determined look.

"We went up the score to more than 16 points than you, no chance! " said Ray.

They left the field, joining Ollie and Hal who had landed to watch them play. Eventually Diana joined them.

"You were on fire!" she commented with a big smile.

Hal nodded his head in approval.

"I'm so glad I didn't play with you! "

And while the three of them laughed at the group of players, they all ignored them.

"We'll get our revenge," said Clark.

"Noted, " Bruce replied.

The tension between them was still palpable. Their seriousness was still there.

"Let's get together for dinner ?" asked Ollie.

A general nod gave him his answer as each player went back to his corner. Bruce returned to their barracks and Clark tried not to follow him with his eyes. He retrieved a flask of water that Diana handed him.

"You're in a fight with Wayne ?" Hal asked.

Clark glanced in the direction of their barracks. Bruce had disappeared from his sight, thank God.

"Wayne can be a real jerk sometimes. "

The irritation and frustration in his voice was real. Bruce had wanted to play with his nerves in the morning. All for the sole purpose of Clark admitting that he was attracted to another man and that he loved it. There was no way to satisfy Bruce's ego out of sheer pride.

"Wow, that's direct. Please, try to make up because it's shit when you don't get along! "

Clark clenched his teeth: this match had excited him. While moving, no risk of erection, but now... it was getting hard for him. If Bruce hadn't played with him in the morning, he could have contained himself. Now his hormones were acting instead of his brain.

"Yeah. I'm going to try to do that. "

He ran back to his barracks, clenching his teeth so he wouldn't get hard again.

He slammed the door behind him just as Bruce had just passed water on his face. Clark didn't wait for him to wipe his face. He walked up to him, kissing him on the lips as he was already pulling on his shirt to remove it. His eagerness made him clumsy, but to his face, Bruce was just as clumsy. The sexual tension between them had been too strong. Clark no longer had to worry about getting an erection.

"You're a bastard, Bruce. "

Bruce smiled against his lips and pushed him back into the room. He took off his shirt, tearing the seam in the process. Their skin was sticky with sweat, but none of them stopped at that detail. They were so excited, in such a hurry that nothing else mattered. They were devouring each other with their mouths, their hands were desperately trying to cover their whole bodies, and their burning skin wanted to feel each other's.

Clark was thrown on the bed and very quickly he was stripped of every last bit of clothing, just like Bruce. And their bodies were able to touch each other completely. Clark was totally overwhelmed by the excitement and the almost visceral need to feel Bruce against him. They kissed each other, more passionately than rationally, losing their breath every time their lips joined.

With his hands grasping Bruce's buttocks, he rubbed his pelvis against his own, their erections harder than ever. Clark wanted Bruce, he wanted him so badly that it almost shocked him to feel such a need. To desire someone so intensely. He'd never experienced that before.

Bruce suddenly detached himself and turned him over on his stomach, at the end of his patience. Clark then felt his erection on his buttocks and his natural reaction was to move against it. He wanted to. He wanted Bruce to take it so badly that it was still upsetting him, without stopping him. Bruce, on the other hand, hurried to get a tube of Vaseline from under the bed.

Clark felt his heart beating fast as Bruce ran his finger over his ring of flesh and then penetrated it with one finger. The feeling was still unpleasant, but with lube it was much easier and much less painful. He then felt a second finger go inside him and after a quick back and forth, Bruce straightened up behind him.

Grabbing Clark by the thighs, he positioned himself and penetrated him with a quick kidney stroke. Clark held back a scream while clenching his teeth and still feeling a little pain. Bruce, for his part, choked a moan of pleasure. Then he moved, Clark feeling the pleasure hit him violently with a single blow. After that, they didn't stop.

In the room, there was more than the tinkling of Clark's nameplates on his chest, the sounds of their indecent kidney strokes, and their restrained moans. It was pure fucking. But Clark never thought he'd feel such pleasure getting fucked like that. He never would have imagined it one day.

Bruce leaned over him and grabbed his sex. Clark closed his eyes, feeling himself leaving because of the pleasure. He could feel Bruce's erratic breath in his back, his teeth sliding down his skin, up to his ear.

"I want to mark you so badly," he said in a deep voice.

The thrill of excitement that ran through Clark made Bruce smile against his ear as he pulled away from him. Of course, they couldn't afford to leave any marks. Clark understood the extent of Bruce's possessiveness. It was only then that he realized it: the fingers on his neck, this willingness to hear him say he wanted it, this desire to mark his skin... He was a damn possessive and it turned him on. Bruce had another way of showing it.

He picked up the pace, his hand clasped on Clark's erection. Clark felt all his muscles tighten as he came, biting his lip so he wouldn't let go of the sound. Bruce came two kidney strokes later, pushing his fingers into Clark's legs. After a few seconds, they separated, out of breath.

They remained silent for a while, each one trying to recover from their emotions, Clark in particular. He was broke with pleasure. He felt like every muscle in his body was numb and this bliss he felt... it felt so good. He had a big revelation: it was so much better than with all the other partners he'd had. He then turned his head to Bruce's side, who was plugging up the Vaseline tube. He frowned.

"Where did you get that? " he asked, his voice still hoarse.

Bruce drank some water before answering to Clark, who in turn grabbed the bottle.

"At the hospital, visiting you. "

Clark smiled as he put the bottle down. That was good thinking. It was much more pleasant for him. He thought to himself that if Bruce had done such a thing, he was sure they would both have done it again. That he had been sure that Clark would have slept with him again when he hadn't even shared his decision with him. So he had seen something in his behavior? That he enjoyed it too much? Bruce must have seen the doubt on his face as he put a hand on Clark's cheek.

"A problem? "

Bruce looked down into his eyes with a mercury look. For a second, Clark hesitated to answer him. Then he confided in him:

"I guess... if I want you like that... does that really make me bi... or rather gay? "

Clark was a little ashamed of himself for thinking that after a sex like that, he would never experience such intense pleasure with a woman again. Bruce raised an eyebrow of surprise and then answered, displaying a slight tender smile.

"Only if you want to label yourself and put yourself in boxes. "

Clark was surprised by his answer, but it made a lasting impression on him. After all, what did it matter? Bruce added nonchalantly:

"Now we have to go take a shower. "

His hand slipped from his cheek and the Bat got up to go to the bathroom, reality catching up with them far too quickly for Clark's taste. But it was their life.


	18. Week 18

# Week 18

* * *

_**Day 124 (02/07)** _

It was hot as hell in his protective suit and once again he wished he could wipe the sweat from his forehead. It was super unpleasant and it was scratching his left temple. He knew that this itching sensation on his scar was psychological, but it bothered him terribly.

" **It's okay for you, Kent ?** "Magnus asked on the radio.

He held back a grunt before answering:

"I need a few minutes."

He turned his attention to the main reason for his situation: an IED hidden on the road they often used to go to Baghdad. Another chance that the driver of the vehicle in front of them realized something was wrong.

He had already unscrewed the lower part of the shell and neutralized the detonation system. He disconnected the charge and moved on to the second shell. With what he had in front of him, the zone of deflagration would have been diminished by the Humvee running over it, but he was certain that their vehicle would have been hit by the blast. They were really lucky, because it was almost impossible to spot an IED when you were in a vehicle.

Just thinking about it, Kent says that with a chance like that, he must have had the divine on his side. It was a miracle that he and the nine others survived. Or maybe it was that driver who was incredibly lucky.

He used tape to keep the cut wires from touching each other and recovered the explosive charges.

"I'm done. "

They were also lucky that the detonation was not remote, otherwise Kent would probably have exploded. When he reached the height of his comrades, he began to undo his helmet with Jordan's help as he handed the charges to Wayne.

"We were really lucky. If that guy hadn't noticed the road conditions we would all be dead. He must have a damn lucky star on top of being a cuckold! "

A Hispanic soldier walked up to him with a big smile on his face.

"I'll take that as a compliment, sir. "

Kent smiled and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You may. You're a hero... Nakai. "

He was slightly surprised by his last name on his uniform, which was not at all consistent with his origin. The soldier replied with an amused smile.

"I am told that I look a lot like my mother. "

Kent nodded his head as he and Hal loaded his protective gear into the Humvee. Wayne joined in the conversation:

"Well, now that it's over, let's go back! "

They all did. When Kent returned to Magnus' side in the vehicle, he turned to him:

"I'm willing to participate in therapy or whatever you think is necessary, but if you want to evaluate me for my job, do it quietly! "

There was nothing wrong with his black look at Magnus. This guy was in the field because of him and if he was preventing him from doing his job, it was clearly not going to go well for him. Magnus nodded:

"My apologies, Sergeant. Professional misconduct. "

Kent nodded his head as the vehicle started. Anyway, he was certain that the next time he made a false move, Wayne would forbid him to go back with them again.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

They had fallen behind on their mission. Since the attack on the Embassy, the political situation between Iraq and the United States of America had reached new heights. Now the tension between the two countries was even more palpable and because the Americans had responded with bombings, the influence of the terrorists had won the hearts of many distraught civilians who had joined their ranks.

There was nothing surprising about that. Dozens of people had died in those bombings. Fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, friends, children. They had all lost someone. So... how could we not understand the hatred they saw in their eyes, or the deep disgust on their faces as they walked through the streets?

This tension made the American soldiers even more paranoid. In anguish, some fired for no reason and shot civilians. Kent had seen one of them break down two days earlier and shoot a kid who had just gone to the mosque in a qamis. The soldier's comrades then had to stop him from committing suicide when he realized his mistake.

The war was still wreaking havoc on both sides. Kent wondered when the war would end or if it would ever end. Hate breeds hate. It always had and it never would. There will always be one who wants revenge on the other and so on. A kind of circle of hate.

He stopped walking when he saw Wayne give the order. In the distance they could hear a hubbub of crowds. They were almost at their destination. Wayne then turned to his team.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Rankin tried to disperse the crowd but there were too many of them. Don't let yourself be isolated. "

They turned into a street on their left and went out the side, where there were already a few soldiers in trouble. Wayne gave his instructions to the other team:

"First Sergeant Weelks, I'm going to let you pass on the left. "

The blond nodded.

"At your orders. "

His team sped off in the opposite direction to theirs. Wayne radioed that they had arrived. Rankin clearly received the message. From a distance Kent saw her raise her gun and fire into the air. The next moment they were ordered to scatter them in the streets.

No one wanted to obey them, but they didn't have much choice. The roadblock had to be maintained and their job was to prevent a riot. They had to do it the hard way. Forcibly dragging civilians through the streets, they used threats and intimidation with their vehicles, almost threatening to run them over.

On several occasions, some violently opposed them and they had to use force several times. Kent had been forced to strike a man with a violent rifle butt, which eventually calmed those around him. This was a lengthy process, but by nightfall the civilians returned home.

They closed ranks in front of the roadblock and Wayne's team patrolled the area to make sure there wasn't another gathering. Kent suspected that he would have to experience this kind of situation more often from now on. And when he saw the violence it was causing, he wondered what was more dangerous: a bomb, or an angry mob. It was an answer he hoped he would never get.

* * *

**_Day 126 (02/09)_ **

"What about your head? How do you feel? "

Clark brought his fingers to his left temple. He could feel the bone fracture under his fingers, that slight hollow hidden by a horizontal scar and deformed along his skull. He could still feel in places the scabs left by his staples. He would have this mark for life from now on. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I still get a few migraines when I get tired, but I'm okay. "

Magnus nodded.

"What about your nights? Can you make them complete? "

Clark took some time to think before answering.

"I think it's calmed down, but I still have some night terrors. "

Magnus changed his position to stretch his muscles.

"Did you follow my advice? "

Clark held a sigh.

"I don't drink coffee before going to bed anymore, I read beforehand to relax when I'm not tired and sorry, for the stress factors I think we're in the wrong place."

In front of him, the psychotherapist made a sad face.

"Exactly. But if you already see an improvement, that's a good sign. You will feel more rested."

Clark showed a slight smile.

"That will be the case for the Major as well."

Magnus stretched out an amused smile.

"That's for sure. How is your relationship with him? "

Clark remained silent for several seconds, trying to remain as neutral as possible.

"They are good. "

"He's not too harsh on you in the field? "

He casually shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms on reflex.

"Wayne is always harsh. That's why he has men under his command. "

Magnus displayed a smile.

"Interesting. "

Clark tried to hide the peak stress he was feeling.

"Interesting? "

Magnus nodded his head, his smile widening even more.

"You adopt a withdrawn posture when you talk about the Major. You don't like to talk about him. "

Clark thought quickly about what he could answer.

"That's my right, isn't it? I'm here to talk about me, not Wayne. "

"Talking about you includes talking about Wayne. After all, you share the same quarters. "

The deminer didn't like the way the conversation was going, but he did his best to remain as neutral as possible towards the shrink. Or else he had to send him on a false trail.

"And because we share the same quarters, it's important to talk about him? Do you really think we spend our free time together? We're talking about Wayne. "

Clark displayed an amused smile, unsettling Magnus.

"Mmh. I thought he could be a positive influence on you. "

Clark nodded his head, his smile always present as he sensed doubt in Magnus. The Bat had his reputation and obviously it was intact.

"You only have to go and ask him what he thinks about it, but of course he is a positive influence. Wayne is calculating. He takes care of his men because he knows we'll be more effective in the field. I admire his unfailing objectivity. "

He was sincere. Magnus seemed to be thinking and Clark had that feeling that he had won the round. He didn't move for a moment for fear that his gestures would betray him.

"Tell me about Stephen Arden. "

This time Clark couldn't control his reaction. He was so surprised that it unsettled him and he backed into his seat. He felt slightly assaulted and responded in a firm tone:

"I was friends with him. He died in the embassy explosion. Yes, I spoke with him when he was dead and I heard him. And I don't care if what I imagined was coming from my head injury or a reaction of my mind to keep me. We don't know and probably never will. Either way, it's not going to bring Stephen back. "

Magnus made a gesture towards him to calm him down as Clark felt his anger rise.

"Calm down, Sergeant. I wasn't trying to attack you, I'm sorry. I just want to know if this event is traumatic for you. "

Clark stood up.

"If this event is "traumatic"? What the hell do you need in the middle of a war as traumatic?! In the last few months alone, I've had to clear a bomb that I set off, I've been beaten up by brothers-in-arms, I've searched the insides of corpses with my bare hands to do my fucking job, and I've been buried alive! Not to mention all the things I had to do as a soldier, like killing people! What kind of trauma do you need?! Do your choice, I've had enough for a lifetime now! "

Clark realized that he had raised his voice and taken an aggressive stance. Damn it. He hated to get out of line. He backed up and sat back, putting his hands over his face to calm himself down. He took a deep breath, trying to regulate his breathing rhythm again.

"Sorry. "

Magnus stood up to sit beside him, putting one hand on his shoulder.

"You're making progress, Clark. You may not see it, but you're making progress. A few days ago, you probably would have left long before this conversation took this turn. "

The bomb-disposal expert straightened his head. No, indeed, he didn't see the progress, nor did he understand what any of this could do to help him. Magnus gave him a minute's silence to calm down and asked in a softer tone.

"Do you know what you're going to do when you get home? "

Clark closed his eyes for a few seconds to think.

"Honestly, I could see myself joining the police bomb squad, but... I'm not so sure anymore. I've been thinking about a job as a trainer, I think I have a pretty good resume but I should stay in the army and that… "

Magnus finished his sentence for him.

"This is something you want to leave. "

Clark nodded.

"I don't want to be deployed again. "

Magnus made a face. He understood his reasons.

"And do you have another idea? "

"I studied literature and mastered several languages. I was thinking of reorienting myself in this field... Maybe as a translator or journalist. "

Magnus showed an amused smile.

"These are two very different things! "

The deminer let out a small laugh.

"That's right. Finally, I have time to think about it. "

"Yes, that's for sure. Tell me about what attracts you to these areas. "

Clark took some time to think about it, and for the rest of the session they talked about something much more joyful: the future.

* * *

**_Day 127 (02/10)_ **

"Still, he was an amazing actor," Ollie said, disappointed.

Clark nodded his head as he began his lunch tray. Pete continued:

"It's a waste, that's for sure. But I hear he was quite depressed, and then he had a lot to do with drugs and alcohol... "

Diana shrugged her shoulders and swallowed her mouthful of bread before answering:

"If I were in his place, if I were an excellent actor, super popular, talented and rich, I wouldn't kill myself! "

Arthur shook his head.

"You can't say that Diana, we don't know his life, nor his reasons. He was probably very unhappy to end up committing suicide. "

"Very unhappy or very stupid. "

All of them shot Hal with their eyes, and he made a sad face as he added:

"It's true! He doesn't risk his life at work, he should have taken advantage of it! Well, I say that but... "

Barry shook his head.

"Wait, you're seriously debating the suicide of an actor who died over a week ago?! "

Clark swallowed his potatoes before answering:

"I didn't know he was dead. "

"Neither did I," Ollie continued.

"Same thing," added Arthur.

Diana and Pete nodded their heads, too, and Barry looked up with a sigh.

"You're really not very good. I hear that his death is being talked about all over the world! « The super actor from the movie « Brokeback Mountain » is dead! » "

Ollie gave Barry the finger.

"I remind you that we're a bit cut off from the world here. "

Barry shrugged.

"He had to be in the hospital! The news was circulating quite a bit there. "

Clark stopped eating and thought about it.

"I think I was there when it happened. "

Everyone turned their heads towards him and Barry thought about it before making a grimace.

"Ah, I think he died when you were under the rubble or something. "

Yes, that must have been it. He nodded his head as Pete said:

"I think he cracked because of his last role. The best role he ever did according to him. "

"Oh, it wasn't the role of a weirdo he was playing ?" Diana asked.

Hal shook his head.

"No, I think it was a knight's story or something. "

Arthur frowned.

"Didn't he play the role of a super crazy and famous clown? "

Pete shook his head negatively.

"No no, that's another movie and another guy, the clown. But I have a doubt now. "

Barry sighed.

"But you're not there, you're mixing it all up, it's a story where he plays the bad guy and-"

They all straightened up when Colonel Jones disembarked.

"Wayne's team, I don't have any more men available and I need you right away! Car bomb. All to the Humvee, now! "

Without delay, Clark, Barry, Hal and Ollie abandoned their lunch to run to the vehicle to get their things. Wayne arrived at the same time as them and as soon as they were in the vehicle, Hal drove off with his foot on the floor.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

They arrived a hundred meters from a barrage of soldiers. They got out of the vehicle and headed towards the highest ranking officer, Colonelle Mann. They saluted before Wayne spoke.

"What's the situation? "

Colonelle Mann nodded behind the fence.

"A roadblock was erected two weeks ago with concrete barriers. A car drove towards the dam despite warnings. They fired. The driver died, but security measures forced the wait for a deminer to intervene. A security perimeter of 100 meters was established. "

The entire team looked over the shoulders of the soldiers posted. Kent saw a car in the middle of the road, pointing towards the roadblock. It must have been about 10 meters from the concrete barriers. Kent nodded his head.

"I put on my outfit and go. "

Allen helped him quickly put on his pads and then headed towards the vehicle. With a nod, he nodded his head to Wayne and drove past the barrier.

Kent looked all around him as he walked towards the vehicle. There were no tall buildings around them, the area was visually open. The roadblock that the military had set up was blocking the street from a crossroads, and of course, it was right in the middle of the crossroads. He hated being so open, it tended to jinx him.

"Twenty meters, " he said on the radio.

He was coming from the back of the vehicle. He observed the condition of the rear tires and the trunk to get an idea of what was in store for him. But he should still check the interior.

"Ten meters. "

He could see the silhouette of the man behind the wheel. He was approaching from the passenger side, so he couldn't see any more. But he noticed that something was lying on the passenger seat.

"I'm there. "

He bent down towards the front window. A can of gasoline, obviously. He moved to the back. The bench seat was covered with a tarpaulin. He changed position to try to see if something was sticking out, but nothing. He went around the whole car, performing the basic checks. He finally checked the underside of the car, which was not easily visible to him.

"Okay, I have fuel visible in the front and a tarp covering the back. "

" **Copy Kent.** "

He went over to the driver's side and checked that the seat was not trapped or that he did not have any explosives on it. Then he grabbed him under the shoulders and pulled him outside, dragging his body a little further away so that he wouldn't be bothered as he went around the car.

He passed his head and looked more carefully at the back. It sucked, he couldn't get into the car without risking touching the device if there was one. And from the smell of gasoline, there must have been some. He got out of the vehicle.

"It smells like gasoline, I'm going to-"

He stopped when he heard gunshots behind him and the sound of a car. Immediately, he grabbed his handgun and fired at the driver as he drove straight ahead. Kent didn't even have time to panic. It all happened so fast that when he aimed and fired, he didn't even realize what was happening to him at the time.

He hit the driver three times and the driver collapsed to the side and swerved. The vehicle crashed into the concrete barriers, passing less than one meter from the vehicle bomb. Still pointing his weapon at the side of the new vehicle, Kent slowly moved forward, pointing his weapon ahead of him as he realized what had just happened. The rear of the vehicle was riddled with bullets, but when he had the driver in his sights, he knew it was his shots that killed him.

He approached to check his pulse while, in front and behind him, he heard soldiers shouting at each other. And then he really realized. He furiously reloaded his weapon, his right hand suddenly shaking and, as he was tempted to go and see the men who had left such an opening in the dam, he returned to his team.

No one noticed that he was coming back. They were all busy yelling at each other, and even Wayne raised his voice. Kent raised his voice when he was just a few feet away from them.

"Hey! Shut up for two minutes! "

Kent had refrained from insulting them all to vent his anger. Everyone stopped talking and turned their heads towards him. The Colonelle was about to open her mouth when Wayne got in front of her:

"Allen, Jordan, help him get his outfit off. "

Kent was stripped of his bomb squad outfit in seconds as the Major traded his M4 for his Barrett. Mann approached them.

"I sent four men as reinforcements to the other side of the barrage." She turned to him. "I'm very sorry, Sergeant Kent. "

The man concerned looked at her. All the insults he had in store burned his tongue, but he remained his superior. And she was not directly involved in what had happened. But even thinking that, he couldn't shake off his anger.

In front of her, Clark retrieved his handgun and slid it firmly to his belt. He put his mittens back on properly and picked up the kit he would probably need. Wayne approached him:

" _We're going to have your back_. "

Japanese. He hadn't spoken Japanese for a while, so he took a few seconds to think about his words before answering in the same language:

" _That had to be done first._ "

He had been unable to contain his anger in his intonation. Wayne remained impassive, but Kent knew he had struck a chord. Too bad he had other priorities, he'd deal with it later.

He returned to the safety zone and covered the distance he had with the car much more quickly. He opened the front passenger door and rushed inside the vehicle. It was certain, he had much more mobility without his protective gear. Gently, he lifted the tarp. It would be too stupid to die because he had rushed. After escaping from the second driver, the fear of dying was almost gone. And that made him reckless. He had to be even more careful, he knew it.

Acting as objectively as possible in his decision making, he removed the tarp. He cleared it outside for more visibility and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw what was underneath.

"C4, several kilos and barrels of gasoline. "

With all this, the dam would have been destroyed and the soldiers next door would have been killed. What a damn good thing that when the soldiers fired on that driver, no bullet hit the C4 or the gasoline. A chance like that, it was almost impossible.

Kent removed the connectors from the C4. Defusing such a stable explosive when there was no complex device was easy. What took him more time in the operation was checking to see if there were any other explosives in the car. And he checked the second vehicle out of consciousness.

"All right, it's done. I'll get the charges back and they can clear the cars. "

He returned to his team. He spotted Wayne on the roof of the Humvee next to the turret. The Major didn't come down from his perch until Kent went through the security checkpoint. Their eyes met. Kent knew that his irritation was still to be seen on his face. Wayne, on the other hand, didn't show any expression, as usual. But there was something in his eyes... something that pinched his heart.

"Uh, I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Allen said.

Kent turned his attention to the rest of the soldiers around them. Colonelle Mann was on the radio giving orders, the other soldiers were clearing the way and the rest of his team was watching him and the Major.

"Yeah, we didn't have time to eat and now it's dead, there will be nothing left in the camp," Queen adds.

Kent wondered if their maneuver was purely guided by their stomachs or if it was to ease the tension in the atmosphere.

"I have to admit we were unlucky," added Jordan.

Wayne nodded.

"Let's go again, guys. "

They all nodded and Kent retrieved his M4. After Wayne talked to Mann for a moment, they all got in the vehicle.

"Take us downtown, Lantern. "

Queen, Allen, and Kent looked at each other.

"Aren't we going straight home, Major? "

"No. We're going to eat and then we're going home. "

Jordan preferred not to make any remarks, he obeyed. The others were surprised: it was extremely rare for the Major to break the rules. Kent didn't know what to think about it, but he hoped it wasn't a bad sign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a little wink in this chapter for Heath Ledger, an actor that I love and who played the role of the Joker in "Batman : The Dark Knight" by Nolan.


	19. Week 19

# Week 19

* * *

_**Day 128 (02/11)** _

Clark looked at Oliver with a sad look on his face. His tortured expression on his face really hurt him and his greenish complexion was a telling indication of his condition. He must have been suffering like a martyr. But at least the doctors were taking care of him. If he was lucky, he would soon be back on his feet.

"You were told not to take sheep," Barry said with a sad expression.

Oliver just grunted and flipped his finger at them.

"He looks a little green, doesn't he?" Hal said with a big smile.

"Fuck you, Lantern. "

Diana smiled slightly, a bit sadistic at the edges.

"It's true that you do look a little green... "

Oliver glanced at him with a black look.

"I'd like to see you there with a fucking food poisoning!" dropped the sniper, mad as hell.

Everyone started laughing.

"Now we can call you « Green Arrow », " Hal said, screaming with laughter.

And this time it was a general laugh, except for Oliver:

"Let's all die with our mouths open, you hyenas! "

Diana stopped laughing just to say :

"Oh, but he's getting angry at this Green Arrow! "

And she laughed her head off as Oliver looked at her to see what he could throw at her. Clark took advantage of the scene to decide to slip away. He tapped the sniper's shoulder.

"Get over yourself Ollie. "

"Ah, someone nice, thank you! "

Clark smiled and walked out of the infirmary first while the others were still laughing. Bruce was smoking next to the entrance. Clark came and stood next to him. They were silent for a moment. They hadn't had time to talk about what had happened the day before. Clark would have liked to say something to Bruce, but they were in operation all the day and by the evening he was so exhausted that he forgot to mention it. And now that they had some free time since the morning, they had to take advantage of it.

He took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the camp. There were people around them, so he had to be careful. Clark spoke Russian, in a low, calm tone.

" _What happened yesterday was not your fault. Don't blame yourself for that._ "

Bruce didn't answer him right away. He finished his cigarette and smashed his cigarette butt to the ground.

"How's Ollie? "

Clark turned his head towards him and gave him a black look.

"Don't do that, Bruce. Don't shut up. "

Bruce lit another cigarette and Clark clenched his teeth. He turned his head back towards the camp.

"Ollie's pretty sick, but he's getting better already. "

Bruce nodded his head. Clark waited in silence, hoping the sniper would answer him. But when he got halfway through his cigarette and didn't answer, he gave up getting an answer. He was about to leave when Bruce made up his mind.

" _We'll talk about this somewhere else._ "

Clark gauged him with his eyes. The Bat was still indescribable. So he had to make with what he had just said. In any case, he couldn't do otherwise.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent stepped out onto the road. He was going to be quick, but he still had to be careful. He crouched down, cursing his protective suit for the umpteenth time. He delicately placed his explosives around it and put the Kevlar protection on the shell and his own explosives.

"It's done, I'll be right back. "

" **Copy**. "

Kent quickly returned behind the established security perimeter.

"Careful, it's going to blow! "

He pressed his own detonator and the explosion was contained by his device, creating a small cloud of sand on the road.

"I'll always find that technique weird. Like when they say it's defusing if you voluntarily blow up the bomb? asked Jordan. "

Kent shrugged.

"When the explosive is small and unstable, it's the safest option. "

Lantern nodded and helped him remove his outfit.

"Well, that was quick," concluded Allen as he pulled the EOD back into the Humvee.

"Let's pack it up and get out of here," Wayne ordered.

And that's when they got shot.

"Shit !" shouted Jordan, taking cover at the same time as the others.

Kent still had half his outfit on and tied up. He looked like nothing and his mobility was more than impaired. His stress skyrocketed as they were being dashed from the left flank atop a sand dune.

"Damn it, Flash, you couldn't shut up !" he shouted as he grabbed his sidearm.

"Usually it's when Ollie or Hal opens it that it's jinxed !" Allen grumbled as he fired at Wayne.

Kent grunted. It wasn't his small caliber that was going to make the difference against assault rifles.

"With you, it always comes up a storm! I've never had worse luck than you guys !" Kent let go as he decided to shoot with Jordan while the others reloaded.

"It's really the hospital that doesn't give a damn about charity !" replied Allen.

The deminer smiled as he was already reloading. It's true that he wasn't having much luck in his operations either.

Wayne killed two men and the third, just as he was getting up to flee, was shot by Jordan. They waited several minutes under cover, stopping firing and listening. They then had to go and check the dead, check the perimeter and warn the base of the attack. They then stayed there for a while waiting for reinforcements and until they were sure they would not be attacked again, Kent had to stay in his protective gear, much to his dismay.

"Well, we're still doing fine !" Barry said after long minutes of silence.

"Shut up !" shouted Jordan, Kent and even Wayne in chorus.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark had to wait until the end of their day, and again in the evening, to be able to talk to Bruce. He couldn't wait to talk to him. It was frustrating to talk to him, to see him and to have to wait until they were in private to talk about something that had already been on his mind for a day. What a piece of shit, that kind of situation! Were there simple things that happened in life? Even a damn conversation was a complicated thing to do!

Frustrated and almost angry at having to wait, Clark turned around in their little shack like a caged lion. The waiting was unbearable and he knew that Bruce wasn't coming right away because he would have to talk once he got there. And Bruce knew that Clark knew he was doing it for that reason and for that, he was angry.

He passed his hands over his face, holding back a cry of frustration. Rah! Why did it always have to be so complicated, damn it! A fucking discussion to dot the I's and cross the T's! Actually no, it was even simpler than that! Just dotting the I's and crossing the T's!

He stopped, perplexed. No, he got lost in his metaphors. He had to stop and calm down. He sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about how he could best approach Bruce. It was such a difficult thing to do. Clark felt that no matter what he said or did, Bruce could closed in on himself. And he was also afraid of one thing, but he refused to think about it.

He was afraid that Bruce would end their relationship. He was afraid that his bad reaction in the field would cause Bruce to question himself and... and Clark wasn't ready for that. If Bruce had to move away from him again, live with him and ignore him... No. Clark wasn't ready for that again. It would be too hard.

He felt his anguish squeeze his heart as his eyes became moist. He immediately raised his eyes in the air to avoid tears. Damn it. He had become too attached to Bruce. More than he could ever have imagined. How could that have been possible in such a short time? At what point had he really clung to him like that? This hard?

He had never realized all this. He had felt his attachment to Bruce but to think that his presence was so vital to him, no, that his gaze was vital to him, it was... pathetic? To be so dependent on someone?

Bruce walks through the door at that moment. Clark remained quiet while the other one undid his shoes and went to put water on his face. Bruce hadn't given him a single glance when he came in. But when he came out of the bathroom, all his attention was focused on him. Clark swallowed. He didn't know what to do or what to say.

The sniper stepped into the room and camped in front of Clark. He crouched down to be at his height. The sniper's heart was gripped with apprehension: in a matter of seconds, he imagined all the ways Bruce could use to tell him it was over between them. But instead, Bruce put one hand on his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Clark. "

His hand went down on the back of his neck and he drew it towards him to kiss him. Clark closed his eyes as Bruce's soft lips made contact with his own. He couldn't hold back a tear from running down his cheek, his worries completely gone. He put his arms around Bruce's shoulders to keep him from leaving. They relaxed only because they ran out of air.

"I'm the one who's sorry, Bruce. I know you want to protect your loved ones. But I'm a bomb squad, Bruce. You can't protect me from everything. "

And then he saw it again, that glow in his eyes. Clark associated it with guilt, or maybe it was a feeling of powerlessness.

"I know. But I could have done better. "

Guilt, then. Clark drew Bruce to him to kiss him again, letting out a sigh of comfort. Bruce was like a bubble of oxygen. He was the most vital air for him. He cleared out.

"Bruce, if something happens to me while I'm under your command, don't blame yourself, okay?"

His gaze became the color of steel again. He had made him angry.

"Don't say that. "

His tone was firm and sounded like an order. Clark smiled slightly and stroked the Bat's cheek.

"I'm a bomb squad, Bruce. You know what they say about us. That we're dea-"

He was stopped by Bruce's lips. He didn't fight them. For the first time since he had known Major Bruce Wayne, he saw him helpless. He could guess his anguish, feel the attachment he had for him. Bruce also felt something strong for him. They stopped, Bruce holding his head against his forehead.

"I don't want to think about that. I don't want to think about it now. "

Clark could feel his distress. He understood Bruce. So he decided not to talk about it anymore. Instead, he put his hands on each side of Bruce's chest and pulled him towards him. The sniper followed his movement, tilting him back on the beds as they kissed again.

They kissed tenderly as Clark took advantage of Bruce's presence and gentleness. He couldn't get tired of kissing his lips, feeling his skin under his fingers, his breath, his smell. It drove him crazy, even though it wasn't all that attractive. Usually he hated the smell of cold tobacco, he didn't like kissing smokers because of the ash taste they had on their tongue, and he used to caress women's bodies.

But there, with Bruce... He smelled other smells than tobacco. That sweet almond smell on his skin, that mentholated breath from the gum he took when he quit smoking. With Bruce, he didn't care about the aftertaste of ashes, he preferred to stay on that mentholated, fresh and sweet note and that tongue that drove him crazy. With Bruce, he preferred to caress this man's body ten thousand times, to know every part of his body, every scar, every mole, every discoloration he could have rather than touching a woman's body once more.

Bruce was... he had no words to describe it. He couldn't find any words that could define him in the way he perceived him. Bruce was Bruce. He drove him crazy. Just by hugging him tenderly, Clark felt that he was going crazy with him. He couldn't help but run his hands under his uniform, venture down his back and kiss him more greedily.

The Bat also let himself be carried away in the embrace. Grasping the back of Clark's neck firmly with one hand, he slid the second to the zipper of his uniform, eagerly unzipping it as Clark let out a sigh of relief when his erection was released. Once again, it was as if they were in their bubble and nothing was around them anymore. No soldiers, no war, no rules. Just them.

Bruce lifted up his T-shirt and uniform shirt and kissed his hips. The area was highly sensitive and Clark couldn't help but get agitated, trying to remove his uniform top and shirt by his head. And with that, Bruce's lips wandered over his skin and... He felt his erection harden even more when he felt his teeth on his skin. Bruce bite him gently, but the desire to do more was felt.

It drove him crazy. Bruce was driving him crazy, and now that his chest was clear, Bruce leaned over him, sticking his body to his own as he kissed him again with passion. Clark was already losing himself in the sensations. Between the crumpling of tissues on his sensitive skin at the slightest contact, his erection against Bruce's, his pelvic movements...

He wanted it. Clark rushed at his uniform top and Bruce helped him get him shirtless. But the bomb squad wanted to go all the way. As Bruce was busy unzipping his zipper, he kicked his earlobe with his tooth and helped him get up to get completely naked.

Clark took a few seconds to admire his body. That perfect musculature, that scarred skin, his different shades of tan. His genitals wove excitement at the sight of the body. Such a perfect body, like a real Greek god except for... His gaze fell on Bruce's proudly tense sex. Red, wet and pointed straight at him.

Caught in the excitement of the moment, he approached the edge of the bed and stared at Bruce's sex, so tempting all of a sudden. It was a new experience he wanted to try. Bruce let him do it when he approached his face and, when he took it in his hand, the sniper held a sigh. But not when Clark's shy tongue passed over his acorn.

It was a strange taste and feeling. It was quite viscous and hot but at the same time... he couldn't think of any other word for it. He had to taste it again. Passing his tongue slowly over his glans, he closed his eyes, recording this stream of sensations he was discovering. And... while he was at it, Clark took it in his mouth.

Bruce breathed a sigh of pleasure as Clark discovered for the first time in his life what it felt like to give fellatio. It was so exciting. He was discovering another way to please Bruce, to lose him in a flood of sensations, to hear him breathe anarchically as his fingers went into his shoulders.

It made him so hard that it became painful. Clark lost himself in Bruce's pleasure, in his own excitement and in the pleasure he wanted to have. He was tempted to do something for himself and, in between sucking, he put his second hand on his own sex.

Clark muffled his moan while he was still sucking Bruce. The pleasure he felt from touching himself motivated him to go faster, suck harder and deeper.

"Clark... "

Bruce's voice strangled in his throat and he grabbed Clark's neck with one hand, trying to hold his pelvis still so as not to hurt him. Clark opened his eyes again. He wanted to see Bruce have a good time, he wanted to see his muscles trembling with pleasure, his skin sweating in the heat of excitement. His skin was so red. Their eyes met.

"For God s-... Kal! "

Bruce tried to pull him back, but Clark was determined to go all the way. Now firmly holding Bruce's sex, he sucked it even harder and as he felt Bruce's spasms, Bruce ejaculated into his mouth.

Clark could not hide his surprise when he felt Bruce come and he was unable to hide his disgust at the bitter taste in his mouth as he swallowed. Then he let go of his sex and Bruce backed away, releasing Clark after a light caress in the back of his neck. The deminer was still wincing and Bruce sat on the edge of the bed next to him, trying to recover from his emotions.

"I'm going to... go rinse my mouth. "

Clark stood up in an urgent need to remove the excruciating taste. Now he understood some women. He leaned over the edge of the sink and rinsed himself several times at the faucet without swallowing the frankly unsafe water.

He was surprised when he felt a wet thing go between his buttocks and raised his head to see Bruce in the sink mirror, giving him an ember look. Clark's erection weaved as he felt a lubricated finger slip and lightly massage his anus. Bruce was a real sex bomb.

He didn't dare move. Putting his hands on the sink, he closed his eyes as Bruce's lips passed over his skin, over his scars, as his tongue wandered over him just like his fingers. Clark held a sigh when he felt the slightly unpleasant sensation of a finger going into him. But when the finger touched his prostate, Clark held his breath. It was like pressing a button that allowed him to feel pleasure all at once.

He tried to hold back the moans of pleasure that rose up his throat as Bruce inserted more fingers into him. It was impossible not to react to the pleasure he felt. He would bite his lip so that he wouldn't let any of the moaning escape. Bruce knew what he was doing with his fingers. It drove him crazy. He was losing his mind, gesticulating while Bruce was giving him enormous pleasure with just his fingers. It was unbelievable. He'd never experienced anything like it.

Clark held the pleasure scream as best as he could when he let go of it as he came. His orgasm had completely shut him down and holding back and controlling his reactions was proving to be much more exhausting than he thought. Bruce withdrew his fingers and Clark turned towards him, leaning on the sink to catch his breath. Bruce's expression of pride in Bruce's eyes made Clark smile.

Reaching out his hands in front of him, he took Bruce's face and kissed him. It was certain, he couldn't do without him. He had clung to Bruce too much, and he loved what they were doing together too much. He had never been as fulfilled in his sexuality as he was until now. And in one night, Clark felt like he had taken a giant step forward with Bruce. He was discovering him in a new light, in many aspects of his personality, just as he had learned more about himself now. He didn't know what the future had in store for them, but he was now certain that he would do everything he could to make it last as long as possible.

* * *

**_Day 130 (02/13)_ **

Clark was certainly making a face when he got out of the Humvee. Their intervention had gone well, there had been no fender benders, well, almost none. Joe had broken down in the middle of the intervention and Clark had been forced to move himself to defuse the bomb and retrieve the EOD. That was a bummer.

"Are you going to be able to fix Joe?" Hal asked, helping him out of the vehicle.

"I don't know, I'll have to take a close look. I'm such an idiot, I should have checked his condition last week already. "

Ollie patted him on the shoulder.

"It was clean. You'll see what it was all about. "

Clark nodded. He had work ahead of him.

He moved to the repair area, where the equipment was available. Clark first looked at the EOD from every angle before going to get the tools he would need: pliers, nut, ratchet and pipe wrenches, and even allen wrenches. Why did it have to be so complicated? He also retrieved screwdrivers and returned to his EOD.

Clark had spotted that something was jamming the wheel mechanism, and it probably created a chain reaction that must have blocked the mechanical arm. Only the camera seemed to be working properly.

"Hey look at the jewel I have ! "

Clark raised his head and smiled as he saw Pete standing next to him, proudly waving some kind of radio. Or not, a music player, MP3 format. Pete sat down and turned the device on. Blues. Clark glanced at Pete in amazement. He loved the blues. He raised an eyebrow to Pete and he smiled broadly:

"Kansas, buddy! "

They gave each other a knowing look before they clapped their hands.

"I'm a fan too!" Clark cried, a big smile on his face.

Pete gave him a big smile. The African-American sat down and did as Clark did, he checked the EOD system. They stayed together tinkering, listening to the blues. It was old-fashioned, but Clark hadn't listened to it in years and it made him nostalgic. His father had been a big fan and had attended several concerts in Kansas City when he was younger. Clark grew up with this style of music on the farm.

With a smile on his face, in a good mood, he began his repairs. Then he wondered why Pete was acting this way. It couldn't have been his depressed face, could it? He looked up at Pete, who was focused on his robot. Clark watched him for a moment. Something was wrong and he couldn't put his finger on it.

"How are you? " he asked after a period of reflection.

Pete stopped. Clark was reluctant to do so and finally let go of his pliers. Seeing the face of the other deminer, he thought he had good instincts.

"Have you... have you ever seen anyone explode before? "

Clark gritted his teeth. It must have been the first time for him. He gave him a contrite smile.

"I've seen more than one, unfortunately. "

Pete lowered his head. Clark decided to go back to work. If they were going to do something like this, he would need to keep his hands busy.

"How do you... how do you live with that? "

Clark was tinkering with the underside of his robot when he said:

"I'm trying to think about what I've been able to do, not my failures. "

Pete made a face.

"I... I could have helped him. I was going towards him but he panicked and he moved... the mine blew up. There was nothing I could do. "

Clark pulled out some pebbles stuck in the wheel mechanism.

"These things happen. Men panic. It's also our role, to do everything we can to calm them down and reassure them. But sometimes we can't do that. "

Pete dropped his robot and took his head in his hands. Clark could clearly see his distress. He had reacted the same way to his first failure, and to the first deaths. But even now, there were interventions that left a lifelong mark. He checked the mechanism of the robotic arm.

"Every time I close my eyes... I see him... "

Clark raised his head and placed a compassionate hand on his shoulder.

"You'll get through this. But if it haunts you too much, talk about it. Don't make the same mistake I did, don't think you can handle it all on your own. "

Pete turned his head to him:

"Do you think I should see a shrink? "

Clark thought about how best to respond. He nodded.

"That's what I'm doing. Because I can't stand what I see anymore. He's helping me. I see Magnus. He may be a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's useful. "

Pete looks at him, as if to check if he was lying or not. But Clark was sincere about the advice he was giving. In hindsight, he was starting to see things differently.

"How much time do you have left? "

Clark is thinking. He hadn't thought about it in a while. He started counting.

"I think I have 16 or 17 weeks left. I don't often count in that sense. "

He could hear the note of sadness in his own voice. Pete nodded his head.

"Then we'll both be here for a while longer. "

Clark nodded.

"And we'll stick together. "

He reached out his fist and Pete struck his with a smile.

* * *

_**Day 133 (02/16)** _

Kent found himself for the umpteenth time with his frying pan, fifty meters in front of a convoy of armored vehicles. Jordan and Allen walked to the sides, a little further back from him. Wayne and Queen were perched somewhere in the buildings, watching over him with their long-range rifles. All in all, it was routine, except that every mission was different. Today, for example, it was raining cats and dogs.

He must have been pretty happy, they had less than a kilometer left before they reached their destination. The streets may have been narrow, but for Kent, it made it easier to sweep the ground. For the vehicles, however, the situation was more unpleasant because their visibility and ability to escape was more restricted. And then with the rain, Kent had water that reduced his field of vision. He was forced to abandon his helmet and keep his protective gear on for better visibility while being protected to a minimum.

Water was running down his face. He had finally gotten used to it, but it was still a bit unpleasant at times. He then heard the skillet ringing and stopped immediately, raising his fist to stop the convoy behind him. Jordan relayed the order to stop and he bent down. It was the fourth time he rang the bell.

Kent ducked down and carefully cleared the waterlogged ground. Metal splinters, no big deal.

"False alarm," he said on the radio.

He gestured again to say he was moving again. He took just two more steps and the detector sounded again. He did the same thing again and checked: metal splinters again.

"Another false alarm, " he sighed.

He resumed his walk and stopped two meters away because of another ringing. He checked. Metal splinters again, but they shouldn't all be there. Kent frowned. He picked up his radio and retraced his steps.

"Stand still. "

The metal shards were all the same. Pieces of cans. An alarm sounded in his head and immediately he felt the stress mounting.

"I think they've booby-trapped the road, but they've found a way to neutralize the metal detectors. I'm going to have to check every time. "

Colonel Hendricksen answered him on the radio:

" **Copy that, Kent. We'll give you a margin and we'll pick up at a slow pace.** "

Kent nodded his head even though not many people could see him.

He had to stop more than a dozen times for nothing in barely 25 meters. He picked up the metal shards and stuffed them into his pockets as best he could, but the bigger ones he just tossed to the side.

Kent was tense every time the bell rang. His heart was beating so fast that he thought he was going to let go of himself eventually. He felt a huge drop of sweat run down his back and slowly go down. That one drop of sweat took his concentration away even more than all the rain that fell on his nose. And it may have been cool, but it was hot as hell.

The last kilometer was a real torture for him. But when the convoy reached its destination unharmed, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Not at all, stressing all the way, it was exhausting. But now the enemy was perhaps becoming more ingenious: he should not let up his vigilance because one day it could be fatal for them.


	20. Week 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble explaining the "Quem's" card game in my own language, so I hope that even translated it will be a minimum comprehensible. Otherwise... let's just say it's a cooperative game in a team of 2 but competitive.  
> Hope you'll enjoy this chapter ;)

# Week 20

* * *

**_Day 136 (02/19)_ **

"Clark, wake up. "

The deminer opened his eyes with difficulty. Bruce was leaning over, the anxiety visible in his eyes. Clark grunted as he straightened up, while Bruce let him breathe a little.

"Another night terror? "

Bruce nodded his head. Clark sighed.

"Sorry, I thought it was getting better. "

He closed his eyes as he felt his fingers slide down his neck.

"It did. You haven't done that in a while. "

Clark nodded his head and put it against Bruce's shoulder. He was exhausted.

"What time is it? " he asked.

"It's about three o'clock in the morning. "

They both lay back. They still had time to rest before they went on duty.

"Sorry to wake you up like this," Clark said, flashing back to Bruce.

Bruce put his arm under his head and pulled him close to him. He put his forehead against the side of his head.

"Don't worry, It'll be fine. "

Clark closed his eyes. He really hoped he was right.

* * *

_**Day 137 (02/20)** _

It was their day off. Clark took advantage of his day to sleep a little longer, then he went to target practice and made a call to check in on his mom. He didn't call her very often and, fortunately for him, he couldn't turn on the video. His mother would have seen the scar on his head and asked a lot of questions. He preferred not to warn her about what could happen here.

And then, in the afternoon, the guys had proposed a game of cards to everyone. Clark accepted, as did Bruce. They all played together with Diana, Barry, Oliver, Hal, Ray and Arthur. The deminer discovered the game « Quem's », which was played in teams of two, and they would draw their pairs at random, taking shifts for a change. The goal was to collect four such cards by swapping with what reminded him of the « river » of poker, or to prevent the other teams from winning. To score the points, the partner of the one who had the four cards had to say « Quem's », warned by a discreet sign. Or to prevent the others from scoring by saying « Against Quem's » and the designated person had a quadruple in his or her hand.

They would roll every ten innings. It was fairly quick and it was counted at the end of the ten innings which pair had accumulated the most points. On the first roll, Clark was teamed up with Arthur. This was the phase when both men were learning the game and both were looking for the best way to win: put together four cards of the same value, or trap the others, or counter them. As much to say that to observe and understand, they had lamentably lost the first roll, with a score of 2 points. Oliver and Bruce had been third in the standings, Barry and Ray second by one point from Hal and Diana.

In the second rotation, he ended up with Diana. And there, they had formed quite a duo: Clark was busy putting together a quadruple to win, when Diana forced the others to stop them from winning. It was a pretty dynamic game, and they were a perfect match. Diana was definitely very good at this game and Clark thought he had to watch out for her in the future.

At the next shift, Clark was left with Bruce. Bruce, against all odds, had refused to let them have a sign. So Clark wanted to see what would happen and focused on the game. He didn't want to be fooled by Diana, who was teamed up with Arthur, while Ollie and Hal were together and Barry was back with Ray for the second time in a row.

They had a great time. Clark himself had been surprised, but the first time he had seen Bruce's look, he had hesitated to say Quem's. And when he did, he was right. They were winning doubles, or conversing, so much so that it enraged Diana, who hated to lose. They won by two points over her and Arthur.

And at the next turnover, Clark ended up with Barry, Oliver with Arthur, Hal with Ray, and Bruce with Diana. This time they all blew each other away. Clark and Barry scored no points just as Hal and Ray and Ollie and Arthur saved the bet scoring only one point. Diana and Bruce, against all odds, were an incredibly effective duo. Clark was almost jealous of them, but it was still quite fun to see them in action.

He was about to move up to the top of the leaderboard while he was in duet with Hal and score an extra point. He was just looking out for Barry, who was going to take the last 8 he needed:

"Against Quem's!" he cried at the same time as Diana.

They glanced at each other to see who was going to get his point while Barry and Arthur cursed for their lost point.

"I've said it before," said Clark, seriously.

"Don't dream, Kent," replied Diana, just as determined as he was to get that stitch.

Ollie intervened:

"Okay, we'll do like last time, one point each. "

"No !" cried the other two in chorus.

It was without counting on the intervention of Hal, Clark's partner and Ray, Diana's partner.

"That's how we do it," said Ray.

"Yeah, we're going to do that," Hal added.

Clark and Diana looked at each other as Barry dealt the cards again. The deminer barely had time to look at his cards when they all heard a voice in the distance:

"Sergeant Kent! "

They all turned to Colonel Jones, who signaled for him to come. Clark frowned and stood up, leaving his cards on the table.

"I'll get you Di," he let go as he left.

"Move your butts so we can get back in," she shouted as he ran towards Jones.

The Colonel, with his always serious look on his face, was impatiently waiting for him. Clark arrived at his height and greeted him.

"My Colonel. "

"At ease, Sergeant. Follow me. "

They went to his office and Clark reached out. He didn't know why the Colonel was asking to see him, only him, on his day off.

"There's a problem ?" he asked, feeling a drop of sweat running down his spine.

"Sort of. "

Jones then took a file from his desk and handed it to Clark. Clark picked it up, frowning. He opened it and knew right away what it was all about. The Dentist. He looked up at Jones.

"I don't understand, I thought the Counter-Terrorism Department had taken over the investigation? "

Jones nodded his head.

"They are, but they're stuck. They're asking for expert advice and... there are several of us who have recommended you. "

Clark was going to end up getting frown lines.

"Who else would recommend me besides you? "

Colonel Jones displayed a slight amused grin.

"Well, against all odds, Colonel Hall recommends you too, and Hendricksen agrees with us. You are a good man and you were on the spot. You are the deminer who has been in the most contact with his alleged works. It's up to you to give your opinion. With what you know, anti-terrorist profilers might be able to get something out of it. This is a priority mission, Sergeant, and it starts now. Use whatever you need. "

Clark found himself with an enormous responsibility on his shoulders. He nodded his head.

"I'll do my best, sir. "

Jones nodded.

"I know. This is confidential, Kent. So I'm gonna have to ask for some discretion. If you need help, go through me first. "

He nodded.

"Yes, sir. "

Jones nodded.

"By the way, bring Wayne in, I'll keep him informed. "

Clark nodded and walked out of the office with the thick file under his elbow and over to the players' table.

They were all waiting for him to play again. Clark made a grimace as he arrived and directed his gaze towards Diana.

"Sorry, I have work to do, we'll do this again later." He turned his head towards Bruce. "The Colonel wants to see you. "

Bruce nodded his head and got up from the bench.

"Jones gives you a job when it's your day off ? " Arthur asked, frowning.

Clark shrugged.

"It's a priority. Have a good time! "

And he returned to his quarters, eager to discover the information held by the anti-terrorist cell.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The file Jones had given Clark contained much more information than he had thought. Counter-terrorism had done a hell of a job tracking this guy for quite some time. They had linked all types of bombs with teeth in them, and for some of them, there was no doubt that the same bomber had made them. The Samarra incident, which Clark had experienced, was also included.

Clark was discovering attacks he had never heard of before. There must have been about ten investigative reports, so about ten bombs. The content was huge. At first glance, he noticed that the presence of teeth at the scene seemed to be his signature, but other mounts reminded him of the suspected bomber's paw.

He began to spread out all the different reports on the desk and, grabbing his notebook, he wrote down information for himself. He knew that if his notes were not retrieved for the report he was about to transmit, they would probably be destroyed. But it allowed him to do his homework better.

He had nothing to say about the previous forensic work that had been done. In view of the pictures of the bomb parts found, the details of the scenes, the little he could have about certain situations, he himself would have come to these conclusions. Even if certain reports were censored, he had access to all the details concerning the bombs.

In fact, he did not really understand what was wanted from him. On the bomb side, he didn't have much to add, except maybe about the bomb he had defused at the embassy. But as for the rest... he wasn't really good at profiling, and counter-terrorism had professionals in that field.

He settled on the idea of giving a general opinion. What he thought of the man, how he perceived him, how he felt about him, ... Already, perhaps he could give his opinion on the alleged bomber bombs of the bomber, just to confirm a little more if it was his work or not. But without the elements in hand, it was likely to be complex.

And as he studied the photos, the reports, Clark couldn't help but admire the bomber's remarkable work. And he hated himself for it. He was used to seeing messy wiring, parts that didn't belong there, but Clark saw the original bomb in the debris and could easily imagine what it looked like. And to have already seen them...

This guy was clearly a professional, and very efficient. He may have been extremely sadistic, even psychopathic on the edges, but this bomber had a remarkable talent to adapt his bombs to the environment, the situation, and to make it very effective. His objective was often achieved. But on the other hand, at the level of the targets...

Clark couldn't see the connection between the bomb he defused under the Humvee and the Embassy bomb. The size, the choice of explosive, the type of detonation, the location... everything was different, except for the presence of teeth. The more he thought about it, the more he came to believe that it came from two different people. And it was very difficult for him.

He didn't hear the Major come in. Immersed in his reflections and analysis, he didn't notice his presence in the room until he came to put down a coffee thermos.

"I guess you're not going to bed, so you'll probably need it. "

Clark widened his eyes as he turned to Bruce.

"Is it that late? "

Bruce nodded.

"It must be half past midnight. "

Clark shook his head, passing a hand over his face.

"Damn, I just couldn't see the time go by. I was in the middle of it. "

"I had guessed it. "

Bruce looked around the room. Clark had spread the reports all over the desk, part of the bed, and some on the floor. He realized this and got up in a hurry, picking up the documents in a hurry.

"I'm so sorry! Jones said it was confidential! "

Bruce looked at him with an amused look on his face.

"I didn't read anything, although I admit it was very tempting. Jones warned me. "

Clark sighed. Bruce was obviously ready to go to bed.

"You've been here for a while," he said.

"Yes, but I didn't want to distract you any further. I know how important this is to you. "

Clark smiled at him. Suddenly he really wanted to kiss Bruce. Bruce must have been reading his mind because he approached to kiss him.

"Try to be reasonable. "

The bomb squad nodded and just left the desk light on. He aimed it at the wall to reduce the brightness and make it less annoying to Bruce. On the one hand, he was tempted to join him, but on the other hand, he knew he was thinking too much about the investigation and would be unable to sleep. So he continued his work, keeping as quiet as possible.

* * *

_**Day 140 (02/23)** _

His investigation was truly riveting. Clark had decided that he would do it right, that he would incorporate all the details of the investigation into his brief before drawing conclusions. He really didn't want to miss out on anything, and he knew that whatever he incorporated later would probably be useful to him.

He had all the documents spread out in his quarters, taking advantage of the fact that his team had gone on a mission to Westford. So, to save space, he folded the beds against the wall, cleared out all the furniture and used the floor, desk and walls to view everything he needed.

Sorting the documents in chronological order, Clark placed the oldest things on the left and the newest things on the right. Sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, he studied everything by himself, making connections and theories that he annotated in his notebook. It made him more objective to no longer consult the reports he had already done, even though he had already read the conclusions as soon as he had the file in his hands.

After carefully examining all the devices, Clark was certain that the same bomber had made them. Aside from the sordid detail connecting them, he was able to identify the style from the debris he had seen on the plates, and also, every remaining wire was black, of the same diameter, and Clark was also sure that he could find traces of glue if he could have had them on hand. But since he had no report from the scientist on this, he could not verify this detail.

Now that he was certain it was the same bomber, Clark needed to understand why he was using such different types of explosives and detonators. A bomber usually used the same components, but not this one. And he was good at everything he did.

He looked up when he heard the knock on the door.

"Yes? "

Clark put the sheets down as Hal put his head through the door.

"Hey, we wanted to ask... Oh boy !" Hal cried when he saw the state of the room.

The bomb disposal man stood up, rubbing the back of his head, a little embarrassed.

"I sprawled a little... "

Hal went in to look around and nodded his head thoughtfully.

"It's clear, I can see why Wayne is taking a nap next to the shooting range instead of here! "

Clark raised an eyebrow, feeling guilty at the same time.

"How long have you been home? "

At the same time he judged Hal with his eyes. He still had his uniform and vest, but not his M4.

"About an hour ago. I just came by to see if you wanted to have coffee with us and take a break from... all this. "

He made a big gesture to point to the room. Clark smiled.

"I'm right behind you. "

They sat down at a table in their dining hall. Ollie and Barry had already brought their coffees and all they had to do was settle in. Clark stared at them. They all looked tired, especially Oliver.

"What was your job today ?" he asked.

Barry sighed before answering.

"We got separated on the way in. Hal and I did some construction work, and for the snipers... "

Oliver had a sad pout.

"The rangers were assisted on an assault mission. "

The look on his face had been trying. Next to him, Barry gently tapped the sniper's shoulder for support.

"It was difficult ?" asked Clark, who was also asking about Bruce's actions.

Ollie shrugged.

"It's been a long time since I've had such a hit. It's exhausting. "

Clark ran one hand over his face. He really felt sorry for them. Sometimes he was really happy to be a bomb-duster and not a sniper. He couldn't bear to live with killing so many people. He really didn't know how the snipers did it.

"What about you, your top secret job? "

He took his head in his hands and sighed.

"I'm stuck. I don't really know what I'm being asked to look at.. ".

Hal made a grimace.

"Well, it sounds like a hell of a headache. You should have seen the guys, their room is a mess!"

Ollie drank his coffee while Barry exclaimed:

"Ah, that's why the Major sleeps next to the shooting range! "

Clark hit his forehead as he was being told that again.

"Thank you, I feel even more guilty now! "

He then saw that in front of him, the two blond men stood at attention.

"Shit, I think we're still deployed," Ollie let go.

Hal and Clark turned around at the same time to see Wayne coming towards them as he spoke to Colonel Hendricksen. He had his gun in his hand.

"Oh no... We had three hours left on duty..." Hal complained.

"Every time it's going to be twice as long! "

They got up just as Bruce signaled them to follow him. Clark then watched them all leave the table, get dressed and head for the vehicles. He wished he could have gone with them. But he had a whole other job waiting for him.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark was immersed in his documents for the rest of the day. He had only gone out for lunch with Diana, Ray, Pete, Arthur and John Stewart, who had finally returned from the hospital that afternoon. He didn't stay long to chat with them because he still had a lot of work to do and the bomber was haunting his thoughts.

Sitting with his back to the wall on their beds, he looked at the last documents he had not consulted and kept the notes he had taken. He was trying to get inside the bomber's head, to understand his evolution, his goals and the messages he wanted to convey. Certainly, he wanted to instill fear and be feared. It was successful. But was there something else behind it?

He raised his head when Bruce returned. With his face pale and surrounded, Bruce barely greeted him and put down his equipment, which had already been removed in a hurry. Clark had packed up part of the room to put the beds back in place and also to restore proper circulation in the space, well, almost.

"I'll make more room for you. "

"Don't move. "

Clark froze under Bruce's imperious tone, which disappeared into the bathroom. He heard him growling and that alerted him. He got up, headed into the room to see Bruce struggling to unbutton his uniform top.

The bomb squad knew why. And when he saw his supervisor take off his shirt and T-shirt, Clark clenched his jaw in front of the bruises from the bullet holes.

"Have you seen the doctor? " he asked in a rather harsh tone.

Bruce nodded.

"I didn't break anything, it was small caliber. They put some cream on me. I only put my clothes back on to cross the base. "

Clark was at least reassured. It wasn't the first time Bruce had taken a few bullets, as it had happened to him too. As long as it stayed on the vest... He held a sigh at the thought and put a light kiss on the back of his neck. He then returned to the beds, leaving Bruce in the bathroom.

He cleared out his things as best he could and made room for Bruce, waiting for Bruce to come and take the bed against the wall so he could take the outside one and work a little more. Bruce came back shirtless, dressed in his stocking to sleep. Clark followed him as he passed the first bed and fell into the second.

"I leave the light on for a short time," Clark said.

Bruce lay down while Clark sat against the headboard.

"Do what you have to do. "

Clark glanced at him. Lying on his stomach, Bruce wrapped his arms under the pillow and came over and pressed his head against his thigh. There was less contact, but he was there. The deminer did not resist. He slipped his hand over Bruce's short hair, then went down and caressed his neck and knotted shoulders with his fingertips, avoiding bruising.

His skin was soft despite what was happening to his body and Clark enjoyed running his fingers over it, sliding them from the hairline to the bottom of his shoulder blades. He didn't encounter any obstacles, which was not the case for Bruce when he was giving him these caresses.

"Where are your ID plates?" Clark asked, suddenly noting their absence.

He had just realized that he'd never seen them, they weren't around his neck or in his shoes. Bruce grunted before answering:

"Probably in one of my pockets... "

Clark frowned.

"You don't know exactly where they are? "

Bruce answered in a pasty voice.

"Not really, I don't care. "

He was too tired to have a conversation and Clark knew Bruce was already struggling to answer him. He appreciated the effort and stroked his shoulder blades and neck one last time before letting him sleep on him. A few minutes later Clark decided that he was no longer focused and that there was no point in going back now. He got ready for bed, then lay down in bed and cuddled up against Bruce, wrapping his arm around his hips. Rocked by Bruce's calm breathing, Clark fell asleep a few minutes later.


	21. Week 21

# Week 21

* * *

_**Day 142 (02/25)** _

Kent was getting impatient in the Humvee. He was finally done with the damn report and had come to the conclusion that the bomber was more of a mercenary of sorts, making bombs for customers. Because the targets and the types of bombs were far too different for it to be a terrorist or a serial killer.

He thought the bomber was acting for money, but also for the fear the bombs inspired and to see the failures of the bomb squad. Kent was convinced that the bomber had to make it his business to watch his bomb, even if he didn't place it. He was certain of this for the bombs that trapped the bomb squad with a laser.

He didn't know what Counter-terrorism would do with his report, but he had done the job Jones had asked him to do and returned the files. Of course, he hadn't told anyone, not even Bruce. And after that, he was free to go back to his job as a bomb-disposal officer. He had to admit that even though he sometimes hated what he was doing, it was a lot more dynamic than going through reports.

The vehicle stopped. Kent got out and followed Wayne to the operations center. This time they came in on the wrong side and had to drive around the perimeter to reach Major Weisz. When they got close to the Major, Kent immediately understood why he was being called.

"Who's the deminer?" the Major asked at the outset.

Kent raised his hand and without asking for more information, he equipped himself with the equipment they had taken with them. Wayne asked:

"What's the situation? "

The Major nodded to the woman 50 meters away.

"Explosive vests. She has a pressure detonator. "

"Shit," dropped Kent as Lantern helped him get his helmet on. "How long has it been? "

The Major made a grimace as Kent checked his radio and weapon.

"She was reported about fifteen minutes ago. "

Kent bit his lip. What a jerk. He'd wanted to come back to the field... He'd forgotten what it was like to face that kind of situation.

"Let's hope she's brave. "

He walked into the danger zone, raising his hands as he arrived.

" _I'm here to help you!_ " he said loud enough for the woman wearing a vest of explosives to hear him.

She was panicked. It was not surprising. But lucky for him, she kept her cool. She nodded her head.

"I'm 50 feet away," he said of Wayne.

" **Copy. Arrow is in place in the South Building.** "

He nodded his head in reflex and examined the vest as he walked the last few meters. Keeping the priming button pressed, the woman did her best to keep the pressure on. Kent knew that more than one would already have cracked from hand cramps. He pulled out his tape as he approached her. She must have been in her 40s.

" _My name is Clark, I'm going to help you. Stay calm._ "

The woman tried to put a smile on her face.

"My name is Sarah, I can speak your language. Your accent is terrible. "

Kent smiled back at her attempt at humor in an attempt to relax. The panic did not leave his face, but he was in awe of her strength of character.

"Sorry, I'm out of practice. Yours sucks too. " He showed his roll of tape. "I'm going to put this on your finger. "

He gave her a reassuring smile as he cut a piece of tape. Sarah let out a nervous chuckle as she looked up at the sky.

"I'm a teacher. "

Kent nodded his head as he took aim.

"A very respectable job! Above all, keep your thumb down. I know it hurts, but you really have to keep it down. "

She nodded her head.

"Not everyone thinks like you," Sarah replied.

Kent secured her thumb and the detonator while he found the connections to undo.

"Everyone is free to think what they want. As long as he doesn't bring explosives into the discussion. "

Sarah giggled again as he walked around the vest. TATP, as if to add one more problem. The vest would be harder to disconnect. He had to take it off as quickly as possible. And he realized the urgency when he saw the state of the white powder and its containers. The TATP was highly unstable.

"You have a good repartee, Clark. I like you. "

He would have liked to give her back her smile, but now he was faced with a difficult situation. Either he left it there or he risked them both jumping.

He took a deep breath. He had to concentrate on checking that there was no second primer and be sure of which wires to disconnect. The vest had been attached to her with heavy tape and if he could cut it, he could remove the vest.

"Leave me alone. "

Kent suddenly raised his head, frowning. He raised the visor of his helmet. Sarah wasn't so panicked anymore. She cried silently, but her eyes were firm. She had resolved to die. There was no way it could happen that way.

"I'm going to stay with you, Sarah. "

He took her other hand, squeezed it, and resumed his work.

" **Kent, we're being watched. How long are you going to be?** "

Kent hesitated to answer. He didn't know if he should lie to his superior, knowing that Wayne would probably know he was lying. And if he was telling the truth, his Major would order him to stand down. And Sarah would panic when she heard it. He spoke French:

" _Explosives are very unstable. Give me 10 minutes._ "

Sarah frowned and he gave her a reassuring smile. He attacked the wires connected to the detonator. He cut the first one, secured the ends with tape and attacked the second.

" **Five.** "

Wayne's firm voice indicated that it was non-negotiable. Kent quickly raised his head and saw that they were indeed being watched. The situation was really not good. It was even more stressful than before.

He took another deep breath when he cut the last wire connected to the pressure detonator. He was used to working under pressure, but now he could clearly feel the drops of sweat running down his face and back.

"You can release your thumb, Sarah. There's more risk on that side. "

Sarah let out a slight sigh of relief as she lowered her aching arm because her muscles were contracting too long. Kent pulled out his knife.

"Wayne, I neutralized the detonator. I'm going to take the vest off. "

" **Copy.** "

He used the serrated side of his blade to cut the large adhesive tape on the sides. The first side took him some time and it stressed him out to think that a false move could make them jump.

"When I take it off, you run to the soldiers over there. "

He nodded his head to indicate the direction of his team and Major Weisz's team. Sarah gave him a big smile, a smile of gratitude.

"Thank you Clark. I lied earlier. Your accent is not that bad. "

Kent smiled at her as he managed to break the second tape.

"I lied about that too. "

He winked at her before getting up, put her visor back on and gently lifted the vest, allowing Sarah to remove it by the head with great delicacy. As soon as she was released, Sarah ran and Kent found himself with the vest in his hands. He put it gently on the ground.

"I'm out of here! "

He turned and ran. As fast as his suit allowed, he ran. That was the part where he took the risk of jumping. The TATP was far too unstable to send his EOD in, so stay in the blast zone ... no way.

As he passed the security perimeter, he saw Wayne with his M4 in his sights, his eye in front of the sight and a clear line of fire.

"You're sending the EOD ?" Wayne asked to be sure.

Kent shook his head.

"Certainly not! "

Wayne waved to Allen who used his radio.

"Back off, Ollie! "

" **Roger that.** "

Jordan helped him remove his outfit while Wayne fired. Almost immediately, the vest jumped off. It was the safest method to neutralize an explosive that was too unstable.

Kent then turned to Sarah, who was escorted back to the city with Major Weisz. He waved to her as she turned around. He was glad that this time the hostage was safe. He hoped that this would be the case for all future times, as there would surely be more. He savored his victory because he felt there were too few to pass up.

* * *

**_Day 144 (02/27)_ **

Clark felt as if he had suddenly switched to another world as he thoughtfully stroked the fine fleece on Bruce's torso. He understood the sniper a little better and had just discovered a whole new side of his life that he didn't know. That of the civilian Bruce Wayne. Clark couldn't even imagine how he could handle this strange life.

Bruce had received an urgent call while they were on a mission and when Colonel Jones told him, Bruce went to the communications center. He was there for well over an hour and all the while Clark was worried. Because Bruce had a strange expression on his face, and even more so on the way out. But Clark had to wait until after their shift was over and the evening, when they were both there, to ask him if he was okay after a game of good sex. And the story was far from what he had imagined.

He raised his head slightly, momentarily interrupting Bruce's caresses on his neck.

"What are you going to do about it? Find a replacement? "

Bruce shrugged.

"It's going to be hard to find one from here. I'd have to look at the list of replacements Mike has drawn up for me, but I'll only be able to do that during my leave. "

Clark nodded.

Bruce's civil responsibilities were not the least of them. Clark had always suspected that Bruce came from a wealthy, very well-to-do family with an industrial empire or something like that. He just hadn't suspected that Bruce Wayne, was the same Wayne at the head of Wayne Enterprises, and that he must have been one of the wealthiest people in the United States of America.

Ever since he had discovered it, he had had the impression that his head was resting on gold ingots. Bruce wasn't rich, he was SUPER rich. He was like a multi-billionaire. And this guy was serving in the army rather than making millions by filing patents on new technologies.

"How long is your leave?" asked Clark.

Bruce took some time to think.

"In five weeks. My shift ends in four months, but if I still haven't found a CEO to replace Mike, I'll have to go back to my role. I'll be out of the army. "

Clark clenched his teeth. On the one hand, he was glad Bruce wasn't taking any more risks in the field, but on the other hand, he was going to miss having Bruce by his side... And... they had never talked about the future. They continued their relationship, without really talking about a sequel. Would it all end once one or the other had finished his service?

"I thought of someone," Bruce continued. "But it's going to be hard to convince him. "

Clark tried to hide his concerns and answered, as if there was nothing going on:

"Someone you know well? "

Bruce nodded.

"A friend of the family, Lucius. I think he'd be great in this role, but he's been giving me advice on my own for a while now. He talks about retirement, but I know him, he's a hard worker. I'll talk to Mike, he knows Lucius and likes him a lot. I think Mike will be satisfied if he takes over. "

"Then maybe you won't have any trouble convincing him," Clark replied with a hint of bitterness.

Bruce heard him and clenched his grip on the back of his neck. Clark looked up at him:

"Why do you risk your life every day in this shit hole when you can live the life of a king in New York? You're a billionaire, Bruce. What the hell are you doing here? "

Bruce stared clearly into her eyes.

"Why would being rich keep me from being in the military and serving my country? "

Clark straightened up on one elbow, ending their respective caresses.

"Because you're risking your life here! You can do so much better, change things! "

Bruce grinned at him.

"That's what I'm already doing, even if I'm delegating. My fortune has kept me from living the life I wanted. Now I can choose. And after Ground Zero, I decided to do what many Americans do, like you. Join the army. How would my social class make my choice less justifiable than yours? "

Clark looked Bruce. He was serious. He didn't know what to think. That Bruce would rather have a military career than a secure one, than be a corporate CEO. Maybe his opinion was biased.

"Why didn't you tell me about this before? he asked. "Why didn't you talk about the fact that you had such a social position? "

Bruce looked at him before answering.

"Because I don't want to be seen as a rich kid. I just want to live the life I want and have others leave me alone. Something that doesn't happen when you weigh billions on the world markets. "

Clark could understand that.

"Do our superiors know about this? "

He knew that the other members of his team and those around them didn't. But those who had him under their command…

"Jones knows this because he is one of the only ones who risked having me: he risks a lot if I die under his command. But I'll be fine. Otherwise, for the rest... probably high-ranking officers or bureaucrats. "

Clark lay back, pensive again. Bruce's life seemed difficult to live, always having to play on two levels. Whatever he chose to do, Clark couldn't keep up with him. It was obvious, their paths would eventually part at some point. This relationship he was in, the most serious and important one he had ever had, had no way out where they could stay together. Especially if Bruce also had a media face.

Too many things were jostling in his head, too many worries, too many thoughts about the future. Clark had told himself that he wasn't going to think about it and enjoy it, but now it was too late, it was in a corner of his head and it wouldn't go away.

Bruce leaned over and kissed him. Clark loved that feeling, that loving attention. His heart still tightened. Because he knew that one day it would all end, and he knew that he was dreading the moment it would happen.

"You think too hard. "

Clark closed his eyes as Bruce whispered in his ear. Such a sweet voice that made his whole body shudder. He knew what the outcome would be.

The kisses became more languid, Bruce passed over him and their bodies rubbed against each other as their hands ventured to caress each other. Clark had to make the most of every moment. He didn't know what the future was all about then... He closed his eyes as Bruce's lips fell down to his chest. It was definitely back for a ride!

* * *

_**Day 147 (03/02)** _

Clark was still thinking about Bruce and his funny life. For the past two days, whenever he had the opportunity, he had been gathering information about Bruce's life, answering his questions and explaining to him what his civilian life was like. And in those two days, he learned more about Bruce than he had in all the days he had known him. He discovered this double life, this paranoid side he had when he came back, this caution, this escape from the media.

Somehow he was admiring the strength of character Bruce had, the fact that he didn't give in to his dreams or goals because he was rich or had more responsibilities. But somehow it all worked for him. He wondered what kind of future a guy like Bruce could have, to be suspicious of everyone, to be reserved, to always be on his guard.

Sometimes, to hear Bruce speak, he was safer in Iraq under enemy fire than when he was at home. And that kind of paradox was a little scary to Clark, who was really worried about Bruce's future. He had gotten to know him, saw aspects of him that he kept to himself, and really, Bruce Wayne didn't deserve a future alone in his house.

His thoughts went out of his head when he was called from afar by Pete, who seemed to need his help on his EOD. Clark sighed and joined the young deminer. He had to stop tying his head in knots for nothing. No matter what happened, Bruce would always find a way out of it.

* * *

**_Day 148 (03/03)_ **

The Marines had called them in as reinforcements. When Wayne announced this to the team in the Humvee, Kent immediately became tense, recalling a host of bad memories. They were called in for the same reason as last time, for support and also because they needed the skills of the de-miner.

In the second Humvee that followed them, Pete Ross was on board too and called on the same mission. Kent hoped the young deminer wouldn't have to go through that. The two of them had never talked about it because Kent was trying to keep it behind him, but if Ross stumbled upon it, he really wouldn't be prepared.

The vehicles stopped and they all got out with the gun in their faces. Kent was tense. He feared only one thing, that his nightmare would come true again. He was afraid that if he came face to face with it, he wouldn't make it.

The Marines signaled to follow them. At the head of their group, Captain Lewis guided them and gave them instructions. Although his rank was lower than Wayne's, Captain Lewis was in the Marine Corps and it was his mission. He was in command. Kent sometimes thought the concept was ridiculous, but he had to play by the rules.

Kent followed their instructions to the letter. Posted behind Wayne, he followed him in line behind him, with Jordan, Allen and Queen on their heels. They were heading into the middle of several warehouses. The deminer was not reassured by the lack of visibility around them and by the fact that it was getting dark, reducing their visual perception.

They would take up positions as night was falling. Moving forward in silence, the intervention group split up first. Wayne's team followed Lewis' team and Ross' team followed another Marine's team. They were going to position themselves on the southwest and northeast side of the building they wanted to surround.

Kent's group made only two stops, the first to get the snipers in position, Wayne, Queen and another Marine. The second was to wait until the second team was in position for them to make the assault.

These were long minutes of waiting, where Kent's stress was just mounting. The Marines would be the first to go in and he, Allen and Jordan were just there to support them. Despite their position further back than others, Kent was tense. His instincts were telling him it was going to be bad. That something was going to go wrong.

With his finger on the trigger, he was ready to fire. He didn't have to wait for the signal from the other team to raise his gun and fire: out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow. This was also the case for Allen. Fast and quick, Allen turned and fired at the man who had them aiming at a corner of a warehouse.

"AMBUSH ! " Allen shouted.

The Marines turned at the same time, and they all faced several jihadists.

"COVER!" Lewis shouted in turn.

The team took cover. Kent, Jordan and Allen hid to their left behind an old transport truck. The vehicle was not going to protect them for long.

In the panic of the moment, Kent looked for another solution. Behind another building, about 20 meters away. He took a look at the Marines, who had gone to the other side. Lewis also looked for another more ideal position.

" **Shanks! Assault aborted! Stop those bastards from getting out!** "

Kent looked for their snipers. Impossible to get a visual on them with the shots fired. He took a deep breath and turned to Jordan and Allen.

"We're going to the building at 10 o'clock. Twenty meters. "

They nodded their heads and Kent took the lead. He didn't know where their snipers were, but he could clearly hear the firing of their weapons.

"Request for cover on our position! "

Kent raised his weapon from their cover for a few seconds. It was the Marine sniper who answered:

" **I've got you in sight, on my mark.** "

"Copy. "

He looked behind him to make sure his two colleagues were ready.

" **Go!** "

Kent came out of the cover and started running. He shot down a guy coming at them and Jordan shot one of them on their left side. Two seconds later they were under cover.

"Thank you !" Kent said over the radio.

From their new position they had a new visual. There were enemies everywhere and they were forcing the Marines back toward the target building. Kent thought he understood what they were trying to do.

"We've got to catch them from behind or they're going to get Lewis and the others. Are you with me on this one? "

Jordan and Allen looked at each other.

"We're following you, Sergeant First Class. "

Kent nodded his head. He took over the lead and they razed the walls of the building, moving away from the group.

"Lewis, this is Kent. We're going to try to take them from the rear, hold your position as long as you can! "

Allen lowered a man inside the building and he fell three meters in front of Kent. He continued, checking straight ahead while the others looked for the heights and their backs.

" **We're in a hurry, we're going to have to back up! The snipers are no longer firing!** "

Kent clenched his teeth. It was a bad sign. He rejected any idea of panic and continued. He turned right and shot two guys from behind. It was getting dark. He put on his night vision goggles and his comrades did the same.

Moving quickly, they shot down every guy they came across. Returning to the exchange of fire, Kent spotted a sniper in trouble. It was impossible to tell who it was in the night, but he fought fiercely in hand-to-hand combat with two men.

"On the roof !" Kent shouted.

He aimed at one of the men. He couldn't make a precise shot with the vision he had, he was in danger of hitting their sniper. And they were moving all the time.

"We've got to get closer !" said Allen.

Kent agreed. They ran for several meters. Jordan controlled on the ground while they had their weapons pointed at the sky. Kent shot the guy who was going to stab the sniper and Allen the guy who was going to shoot him. Surprised, the sniper turned to them and made a gesture of thanks. Kent then recognized Queen. He took back his radio.

" **Queen, cover them!** "

The latter was already reacting. Kent, Jordan and Allen, meanwhile, advanced to take the enemies from behind and shoot them down.

Kent could feel his heart beating fast in his chest. Caught up in the adrenaline of the moment, he felt more lucid than ever. He was very responsive and four times that same adrenaline probably saved him, making him act quickly to take cover or dodge a hand-to-hand attack on a man who was immediately killed by Jordan.

Tonight there was no mercy on either side of the exchange of fire. This was clearly war and all were prepared to die for their beliefs. That's what this war was all about, wasn't it? That's what it was all about. A story of convictions.

Kent must not have been thinking about that kind of thing. He had to think about his primary objective: to get Lewis's team out of there. He stopped behind a truck and again observed the situation through the magnifying glass. Allen came next to him.

"We got off quite a bit, I think we're doing well. "

Kent was septic.

"Or they're running away. But not for the reasons one would think," he replied.

He had seen the look of hatred in some people's eyes. He had read the determination on their faces. They weren't going to retreat like that. It was all or nothing. He picked up his radio just as the radio started to crackle:

" **Lewis, Shanks, get out of there, the building is booby-trapped!** "

Kent's heart missed a beat in that moment. It was Wayne. Wayne was still alive. The sigh of relief he breathed and the pressure off his chest made him realize that he had been worried about him all along. He came back to reality, not being able to afford to be distracted any longer. He observed Lewis' surroundings.

"I can cover you for a leak at your 2 o'clock. "

He asked Allen and Jordan to keep an eye on the area with a wave of their hand. They had little cover, but if all went well, they had cleaned up after themselves.

" **I can cover you too.** " Queen added.

Kent looked up behind them and noticed the silhouette of the sniper. He motioned to him that he had seen him and shifted his attention to Lewis' position.

" **We're heading back to the Southeast, we could use a hand!** " Shanks said.

Kent counted the minutes.

"We've got to go !" he said on the radio.

" **Go!** "

Lewis and his team come out of the shadows. Kent and his team fired on three men. Not one more. Lewis and his team arrived unharmed at the indicated position and walked away on their own. Kent signalled Queen to withdraw with a wave of his hand and did not move until he saw Queen get up and leave. He led his comrades further away.

" **Fall back!** "Lewis said.

Kent was ashamed to realize that he had not waited for the Captain's orders to give the same order himself. We wouldn't blame him for that.

The building exploded and all the evidence it could potentially hide with it. Kent and his team were barely hit by the blast. The explosion was not significant, but if they had been inside, they would probably all be dead. Perhaps that's why they were pushed back inside.

Kent thinks they were lucky that one of their men was not discreet. Otherwise, there would have been no exchange of fire, the enemies would not have revealed themselves, and the building would not have jumped without casualties. As a result, everything could be traced back to a single detail.

As Kent and his team gathered to the starting position, they were pleased to discover that they had not suffered any casualties. Ross looked good but was a little shaken. Allen and Jordan were unharmed. The Marine sniper had been stabbed in the left forearm and was doing well, Queen too and Wayne…

Kent found it hard to remain impassive when he saw Wayne arrive. His heart missed a beat when he saw him come back covered in blood. It wasn't the first time he'd seen him like this. He had been afraid that he would be hurt at first, but now he was intimidated. Wayne was scary to see, literally. He was terrifying. Covered in blood all over his uniform and on his face, the look of steel in his eyes made him intimidating.

There was a long silence when all the men had gathered and he had arrived. Kent couldn't tell from his behaviour what his state of mind was, but his steely look probably went hand in hand with his anger. Captain Lewis, at first hesitant, reached out his hand.

"Thank you, for the information. You saved us. "

Wayne didn't take his hand. He simply gauged it with his eyes and turned his head towards Kent and his comrades.

"Thank the team. Without them, you would have jumped a long time ago. All I did was... _ask_ for confirmation. "

And that's when Kent realized that he had to go to great lengths to get the information quickly. The blood on his uniform confirmed it. Lewis dropped his hand and nodded, intimidated.

"Well... thank you guys. "

Kent was embarrassed and a look at Allen, Jordan and Queen confirmed that it was a shared embarrassment. They too seemed intimidated by their boss.

Wayne waited for Lewis' last orders before giving the order to withdraw. Before getting into their vehicle, Kent ventured to ask, aside from:

"Are you going to be all right? "

Wayne took a brief look at him.

"I need a shower. "

And he got into the vehicle. Kent did the same, keeping his gaze fixed on the man in front of him for the entire ride. A person was always multifaceted, but he had the feeling he would never discover all of Bruce's facets, which remained mysterious as he walked by.


	22. Week 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I found out that in the comics, Pete Ross had the same middle name as Clark, I thought it was pretty funny so I wanted to include that for fun!

# Week 22

* * *

_**Day 150 (03/05)** _

Clark was eating breakfast with his eyes in the air. He was thinking about what Jones had said to him and Bruce when they left the barracks. Jones had seen fit to brief them on the results of another mission, which had taken place the day before. Three units of Marines had been blown up in a building explosion. The method used was the same as the one Clark had faced before: bodies full of explosives.

This information was enough to get him back there, in that building, among the bodies. He had lost his appetite, so he didn't even touch his oatmeal. He saw the images again, he felt the insects swarming under his fingers, in that slimy feeling...

He shook hands and touched the mittens that covered them to get rid of this feeling. He was nauseous.

" _Don't think about it._ "

He was surprised to hear Wayne's voice speaking to him in Japanese, just before he sat down next to him. Clark nodded and turned his head towards him. The wind made Bruce's hair wiggle, cut to the limit. Not long from now, he would have to shorten it again. Too bad, because those rebellious locks made him really attractive. Bruce turned his gaze to them, letting him also get lost in the void.

" _I talked to Pete Ross._ "

Clark frowned. He was surprised that Bruce continued to talk to him in a foreign language, and he was also surprised that he was talking about Pete.

" _What's wrong?_ "

Because surely something was wrong for Bruce to bring up the subject.

" _He's shaken. I saw him panic during the last mission we did with the Marines. I had to talk to his superior, Reagan, but he doesn't seem more concerned about it than that. So I went to see Pete in person._ "

Clark had to focus on understanding Bruce. He didn't have as much ease with the language as he did. That's why it took him a few minutes to answer him.

" _How did Pete react ?_ "

Bruce let out a slight sigh.

" _I obviously scared him more on the last mission than the enemies across the street. Pete panicked. That's why I'm here to tell you about it._ "

Clark nodded his head, understanding where Bruce was going with this. He looked around. The tables around them were full of people and by discussing Pete's case normally, they risked discrediting him in the eyes of soldiers with dull ears.

" _Do you want me to talk to him ?_ " Clark asked.

Bruce nodded.

" _I think you're in the right place. But I'm not forcing you to do anything._ "

Clark shook his head.

" _I will. Pete's already come to talk to me, so..._ "

Bruce turned his head towards him.

" _When that?_ "

Clark looked at him. He saw a spark in Bruce's eyes that he couldn't interpret.

" _A month ago. I should have made sure it was getting better._ "

Bruce narrowed his gaze.

" _You can't carry everyone's weight on your shoulders._ "

" _That reminds me of someone._ "

Bruce elbowed him gently and stood up.

" _I'll leave you to it then._ "

Clark watched him leave, a slight amused smile on his lips. Bruce could be really thoughtful sometimes.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark had waited until he was back from an intervention and had some time to talk to Pete. Pete had isolated himself from the rest of his team and found himself near the target practice area, where they had spoken once before.

In the same way that Pete had approached him, Clark had gone up to him and engaged in conversation, taking his fellow bomb-disposal officer by surprise.

 _"_ How are you doing? "

Pete was startled, before trying to regain composure to answer:

"I'm okay. "

The dark-haired man smiled a little. Pete was completely unsettled. He rubbed the back of his skull, resuming:

"I had a little chat with Major Wayne as well... "

Clark tried to relax Ross with his gestures. He sighed, sitting on the floor against the target box. Pete followed him in his movement.

"Wayne has an intimidating charisma. And he's not a pro at socializing either. "

Pete nodded his head, grinding his plates with his fingers.

"Yeah, I can see why they call him the Bat... He saved my ass last time without seeing him coming... and then he just walked away. "

Clark didn't know the details, but that didn't surprise him. He had discovered several times at his expense that Bruce was very good at hand-to-hand combat.

"Wayne scares you ?" Clark asked pensively.

Pete shook his head negatively.

"That's not really it. It's more that... it's what he _embodies_ that scares me. I joined the army thinking I'd help but... Seeing him covered in blood, killing in cold blood... I don't want to become like that... "

Clark made a face. He thought like Pete, but on one hand, he couldn't feel the disgust Pete had for Bruce, or people who behaved like him. Because he understood why they were doing it. At least those who were acting for the same reasons as Bruce. He shrugged his shoulders.

"No one commits to becoming like that. But, we're at war. It's your life or the enemy's. Guys like Wayne, we need them. Because without them a lot of people would be dead. You and I are part of that. "

Pete nodded, but he didn't seem convinced. Clark continued:

"You know, I had a hard time with Wayne, but I got to know him. If he's acting this way, it's for the same reasons we are. Because he wants to protect his brothers in arms. Because it takes people to get their hands dirty and he's willing to do that because he believes in what he's doing. But that doesn't stop him from feeling. He never kills in cold blood. He kills because it's necessary, and in his eyes, all the reasons in the world won't make him forget what he's done. "

Pete turned his head towards him.

"Do you think he feels remorse? "

Clark nodded his head.

"We all do. Wayne just knows how not to show it. He's like a rock, which you can hold on to because he'll never give up, like Jones or Stone are. They're tougher than we are, but they take a beating too. "

Pete looked at his plates again.

"You seem to admire him a lot. "

Clark evaluated the remark and the answer he could give. He nodded his head in turn.

"Yes. I admire his strength of character and uprightness. I now understand how fortunate I am to serve under him." He sighed. "Now that we've talked about Wayne... how about what was on your mind before? "

Pete opened his eyes and Clark shrugged his shoulders, a slight smile on his lips.

"Wayne is a good observer. "

Pete scratched the back of his skull and then removed the plates from his neck.

"That's because... the last time I intervened, I saved a soldier who had stepped on a land mine. "

Clark frowned as the African-American again chewed his plates.

"That's a good thing, what's wrong with that? "

Pete showed him his plates.

"It's... she was convinced she was going to die so... she asked me to take her plates off her foot before it was too late. "

Pete took a short break, and this time Clark waited for the rest.

"I didn't touch it, of course, and when I released her she was thrilled, but I... I wondered where I should put mine. These. Damn. Dog. Tags. "

He had so much emphasis in his closing sentence that it made Clark smile in spite of his story. Pete continued:

"And ever since I've had that thought... it's been running through my head... I keep thinking, « What if they're in the wrong place? What if they jumped with me? » and it's been on my mind so much that the last time I thought I was going to die without being able to be identified. And when I realized that this building was booby-trapped... "

Clark tapped him on the shoulder.

"Don't let that bother you. The plates are strong. Besides, if you're doing well you have no reason to think that your plates are going to be destroyed with you. Because you're going to live, Pete. Wearing your plates is just a detail. By the way, you know they haven't said « Dog Tags » for ages ?! Since the 90's I think ! Old dinosaur ! "

Pete laughed at Clark's last remark.

"You can talk, you're older than me," replied the youngest de-miner.

Clark smiled at Pete's amused expression. Pete continued:

"And then I thought it was still being said a little. Where do you put yours? "

The man questioned took them out from under his uniform.

"Around the neck, the great classic. I used to put them under the laces of my shoes, but I don't think that's a great idea for our profession! "

Pete laughed under Clark's amused intonation.

"It's clear that we're more likely to step on one mine than the others! "

Clark nodded his head.

"On the bright side, we'll find your foot with your name on it! "

There was a moment of hesitation and then they exploded with laughter. It was a heartfelt laugh, the most natural kind of laughter. Pete wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Well, I'll keep them around my neck then. "

Pete opened his hand to look at them for a moment and then he put them back on. Clark raised an eyebrow.

" « ROSS, PETER, J. » What's the « J » stand for? "

The interested party grimaced.

"Ah, it's for « Joseph ». I hate my middle name. "

Clark burst out laughing, pulling out his plates again.

"I have that middle name too! "

Pete looked at the "J" on Clark's plaque and shook his head and laughed.

"How random things really do work sometimes! "

Clark laughed back, tapping Ross's shoulder.

"I wouldn't be in a position to say otherwise! "

Pete smiled a big smile and they calmed down. Clark noticed further on Diana beckoning him to come while she was with Arthur. He answered them with a gesture and turned towards Pete.

"I must go. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to talk about it. "

Pete nodded his head as Clark stood up.

"Thank you Clark. You've already helped me a lot. "

Clark winked at him.

"It's my pleasure Pete! "

* * *

_**Day 151 (03/06)** _

The wind was blowing quite a bit over the city. The narrow streets between the tall buildings increased its intensity and Kent, like many others, had put on his mask, while others had put on their sunglasses. Protected from the sand, he could do his job with at least one less problem.

Moving his frying pan, he had to stop almost every two meters to check for metal shards from soda cans or a bomb. These kinds of routes made his work longer and more intensive.

Rolling his shoulder to loosen up his muscles a little, he changed hands for a short while to carry his detector, weighing heavy over a long distance. And again, his frying pan began to ring. Kent stooped down for the umpteenth time to dig up cans. Eventually, he had stopped signaling every time he bent down.

" **They finally found a real way to piss us off** ," commented Colonel Jones, who was there for the escort mission.

It was during this type of mission that Kent discovered that their superior didn't like to waste his time. And that's exactly what was going on right now.

" **Yes, it adds at least two hours to our mission time. A snail would be moving faster than us. No offense, Kent.** "said Sergeant Major Palmer.

Kent had gotten up and carried on.

"No hard feelings, Atom. This situation pisses me off more than you do. "

On either side of him, Jordan and Allen were having fun making faces at each other or throwing rocks at each other to keep themselves busy, but careful where they threw them.

" **I hear the staff is going to allow us to use air strikes more often, is that true?** " Palmer asked.

There was a period of silence and Kent knew Jones was reluctant to release information. Air strikes were used only when extremely necessary, but rumors were circulating quickly among the soldiers and Kent had heard that their government was planning to give up in view of the losses they were suffering.

" **I don't know their decision yet, but it's under discussion.** "Jones replied.

Kent leaned over again to clear the sand when his detector started ringing again. The wind had suddenly stopped and he could take off his mask. Again he came across pieces of metal of some kind that he pulled out of the road.

" **Is everything okay up there?** "Jones asked.

" **Clear** ," Wayne replied.

" **Same thing** ," Queen replied in turn.

" **Idem**. " Stewart continued.

Kent continued on his way as their snipers were well positioned to cover him along the way. He knew where his comrades were and looked up for a moment before continuing. Of course, he couldn't see them, but they were there.

His frying pan started ringing again and with a sigh, he lowered himself. When he saw an electric wire, he immediately raised his fist to stop the convoy. Jordan shouted the order and Jones gave the order to stop. Kent stooped down to gently clear the wire and had to dig gently to clear a shell. A 155 mm shell, for a change.

"I have an IED. "

Kent felt the adrenaline rush as he dug out the shell. Other wires were going underground.

"There are others. "

He stood up, searching for the other wires in connection with extreme caution as the stress gripped his guts.

" **Roger Kent.** "

The deminer spotted two more shells on the side of the road. He turned towards his two comrades, making grand gestures with his arms.

"Retreat from at least 150 meters! "

He collected the shells, paying attention to the connections. He unscrewed the base of the first one, paying close attention to the detonation device which could be very sensitive. He took out his pliers and tape and began his disarmament work.

The first shell was disarmed fairly quickly. The second caused more problems for Kent. It was damaged and he was lucky it hadn't gone off before. This shell had been patched before it was used to make an IED and they had obviously been successful in their mission. Kent was forced to put his mask back on because of the wind, reducing his visibility as he tried to get around without making false contact.

" **I see something in the northeast. Need confirmation.** " Wayne said.

Kent concentrated on his shell, hoping it wouldn't get dinged again.

" **How many yards away?** "asked Jones.

" **No idea, but it's getting closer. Confirmation Wayne, I can see something.** " Queen replied.

Kent frowned for himself, not quite understanding why they didn't identify their target well.

" **Damn it!** " pesta Jones.

Behind him, Kent heard the convoy moving again.

" **It's a sandstorm, and a big one!** " confirmed Stewart.

" **We're moving. Everybody get your asses back here! Kent, this counts for you, too!** " Jones gave the order.

Kent looked up and turned to see the convoy turn around. He swore. He wanted to secure this shit before the storm came.

"I'll be there in five minutes! "

He had to take care of this so it wouldn't jump out at him. A sandstorm was coming fast. Especially since he could already feel the wind speed. It was a really bad sign all this.

" **You're moving now Kent!** " Wayne said in a very directional tone.

Kent bit his lip but didn't move from his position.

" **Kent! Get out of the way!** " Jones ordered again.

He had to gain a few more seconds.

"I'm coming! "

" **Kent, it's now! Move!** "

He could feel the anger in Wayne's voice. He could feel the sand coming over him as the biggest storm would soon be upon him. He clenched his teeth and this time he got up to turn around, running on all legs to cover the 150 meters as fast as he could, leaving his frying pan behind.

He covered the distance quickly as he felt the wind on his back, blowing so hard that he almost felt pushed by it. A Humvee stopped a few meters in front of him and he climbed inside with Allen's help. When he closed the doors, he could hear the grains of sand hitting the vehicle.

"Palmer's getting our snipers back !" almost shouted Jordan to cover the noise.

Kent nodded his head.

"Go for it! "

The vehicle accelerated and less than a minute later, Kent heard the violent detonation of the IED. The storm was on them very quickly and covered everything in front of them, darkening the sky. Kent felt like he was in the middle of the night in a severe blizzard. The noise was unbearable, with the squalls hitting the vehicle hard. Jordan could barely drive, not being able to see more than three feet ahead of him.

They were forced to drive, not being able to afford to stay in a high-risk area. The storm lasted several long minutes, before disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. After unsanding the vehicle outside, Kent finally gave the order to return to their base, as their escort mission was obviously aborted.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Their vehicle had been the last of their mission to return to the camp. When Jordan parked the vehicle, Clark saw Wayne, smoking, patiently waiting for them to return. He was obviously talking with Colonel Jones and Major Stone back at the base. Clark felt that this was his break before Wayne's steely gaze came upon him.

He walked the last few yards of the group with some caution to debrief the mission. Kent had to report the destruction of his frying pan, which made Jones wince slightly. He was then reprimanded a few times for not following orders, but since no one was injured, Jones was quickly over the hump. But Wayne hadn't.

Clark knew that by going back to his quarters, he was allowing Wayne to fully yell at him. The door slammed shut behind him as the Major walked in behind him.

"Don't ignore my orders anymore! When I give it you must follow it, Clark! "

Bruce was totally frustrated.

"I followed your orders, Bruce! I stayed longer to allow myself to escape! "

That was partly true. But it wasn't the whole truth. Because Clark had also tried to defuse it before without success.

"Don't use the bomb as an excuse! That's the last time you ever pull a stunt like that on me! "

Clark was ready to respond defensively when Bruce grabbed his head with both hands and crushed his lips against his own. The bomb squad surrendered all weapons in a second.

Running his hands over Bruce's hips, they kissed passionately, trying to get the upper hand on the other, playing with their tongues, biting their teeth, pressing on their mouths. The exchange was so good. Clark was unable to think when Bruce kissed him like that. By doing that, he was taking total control of his mind, of his body. Clark was completely crazy about Bruce.

Their exchange lasted several minutes, before they decided to break free. They were still on duty and they couldn't afford to snog all the time. Splitting up as if nothing had happened, Wayne came out with a cigarette in his mouth, his unfriendly expression back on his face. Kent followed two minutes later, trying to put on a good face when he knew he was more transparent than his superior. He was going to have to practice even more on that side if he wanted to be totally discreet.

* * *

_**Day 152 (03/07)** _

Kent found the situation more than strange. It was perhaps the first time he had held this position in this kind of mission. In fact, it was even sure, he had always been at the head of the convoy. But not this time. Due to a lack of manpower, Jones had requisitioned them at the last minute to escort a tank on patrol. Only as an escort, because of his de-mining skills.

"It's a really strange situation," he said out loud.

He was walking beside the tank, in front of the first tracks. In front of the tank, Jones walked along with Wayne and Ross's superior, Reagan. Who was now the de-miner in front of them.

"Yeah, it must be a big change for you," commented Queen, who walked right behind him.

It wasn't even their snipers who were in position for the escort. Ross raised his hand to stop and one of his colleagues in the front with him gave the order to stop.

Ross moved forward with his frying pan with McNider and Chapel. This was obviously a false alarm, as after a minute Ross was back on the road.

"It's very strange," said Kent again.

He had his eyes fixed on Ross, who was using his metal detector to cover the road. He looked like an idiot. Did he also look like that with their detection equipment and protection?

"You feel like you don't belong here, don't you?" Allen asked, further back.

Kent raised his thumb to assert.

"Yeah, that's totally it. "

" **We can switch places if we don't!** "Ross said in an irritated tone.

All the soldiers near the tank began to laugh, including their superiors, including Jones and Wayne, who displayed an amused grin. Kent replied:

"I'm sorry, I didn't bring my equipment! "

They heard Ross's laughter in reply.

They continued on their way with a big smile. They were quiet for three-quarters of the way until Ross came across an IED. And then, for Kent, his work took a whole new twist. He was able to see the convoy in action, organizing itself around the perimeter, finding an alternate escape route, waiting for new instructions, setting up a security perimeter around the convoy and watching everything.

Kent was on the other side of the fence, so to speak. For the first time, he was one of the soldiers actually advancing alongside the tank. He could see the stress that was building up in some of the soldiers who were waiting. He could see the calm on some of their faces. Kent was like out of phase. He was calm, because on one side, he didn't have his nose in front of a bomb. And on the other hand, it was like a real relief. Ross defused the bomb, retrieved the explosives, and they went on their way. Kent was happy to see that the relief was assured.


	23. Week 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a sunny day

# Week 23

* * *

_**Day 159 (03/13)** _

The weather was splendid. The sky was blue and the sun was shining over the entire desert area of Iraq. If Kent had been on vacation, he probably would have found it nice. But too bad for him, he was on a mission and the heat was making him lose liters of water in his protective suit.

"Ten meters. "

" **Copy Kent. Ten meters.** "

They had been called for an abandoned vehicle in the middle of a fairly sensitive area on the edge of the Green Zone. On a large avenue, which was empty because of the dam that had been placed, Kent felt uncomfortable. He couldn't see how the area would be a good target for a bomb. It wasn't even a convoy route.

He preferred not to ask more questions so as not to tie unnecessary knots in his head. His team was in position, with Queen and Wayne stationed in buildings along the avenue. But he was intrigued. It was strange, he had a bad feeling about it.

He took a deep breath as he went around the vehicle. Today was a beautiful day. No need to worry unnecessarily. He bent down to examine all the windows of the vehicle. He would probably have to turn around if there were explosives inside. But from what he could see, the car was empty.

"Inside it was empty. "

He looked underneath, raised the hood, checked the trunk. Nothing at all. He sighed with relief. He was going to be able to get his outfit out of the oven.

"Clear, the vehicle just looks broken down. We can push it to clear the way. "

" **Copy. We have a convoy that has just been diverted to our position. Be careful down below.** "

Kent felt his stress take a turn for the worse. Okay. Now that was super creepy.

He joined his mates and he noticed that the Lieutenant who had warned them had that same worried look on his face.

"You're certain of your conclusions?" asked Lieutenant Fraser.

Kent nodded his head as Allen helped him remove his uniform.

"I'm certain of it, Sir. "

The man nodded. Allen placed his outfit in their Humvee. Fraser then asked the convoy's status by radio and then turned to them:

"Well, they're on their way. We'll clear the way. Collins, Hanson, you will clear the vehicle for me. "

Two soldiers nodded their heads and moved towards the suspect vehicle. Kent, on the other hand, was in a sweat, but again operational.

"I'm going to go help them. "

The lieutenant nodded his head and Kent ran to join them.

Once the handbrake was lifted, the vehicle was not difficult to move with three people. One of the strongest of the three, Kent pushed the vehicle with Collins while Hanson steered. Soon the way was clear as an armoured vehicle with two escort units entered from across the street. From a distance, he almost thought he recognized Jones. Inevitably, they were going to have to fit in with them.

Kent sighed on the way back. Hearing the other two also sigh, he suspected that he was not the only one who found the escorts boring to do.

"Contact ! "

They saw the escort pointing their guns at them. Kent straightened his M4 by reflex, without seeing where the enemy was coming from. Certainly from behind them.

Quickly, Collins grabbed him and Hanson by the vest and they found themselves lying on the ground while an exchange of fire was taking place. Completely in the open, they hid behind a parked car, looking for a glimpse of where the fire was coming from.

" **At 12 o'clock! Contact! Contact!** "

Fraser's cry sizzled in their three radios. Kent felt his heart beating fast as the M4s, machine guns, Barrett's and the armored vehicle were firing at the same time. It was total chaos. They were almost in the middle of the fire. They had to get out of there.

Kent looked up and from what he could see, they were totally overwhelmed. A rocket shot was fired at his comrades and he heard them screaming. Kent changed position to see if the rocket had hit its target. No, but it had passed within a few meters. He turned to the other side to look for the shooter.

" **Everybody fall back! There are too many of them!** "

"Fuck it, for sure !" commented Hanson, whose eyes were glued to the direction of their enemies.

Kent had been able to see a dozen guys, but there must have been more. They were being shot in the open. He turned to the other two soldiers.

"We'll have to rejoin the convoy! Reach the other car over there while I cover you! "

The car he was pointing at was about fifteen meters away. It was risky.

"But Sergeant... "

Kent countered Hanson's protest with a gesture.

"That's an order, soldier! "

" **We're going to ask for air support! Clear the area!** " ordered Colonel Jones.

The convoy had retreated to take cover from the corner, putting even more distance between them.

"This time there's no choice! "

He turned around and began firing to cover them as they ran towards the other vehicle. He completely emptied his magazine and was shot back, while the other two soldiers tried to distract their far too numerous enemies. They were almost on top of them.

Kent looked at them and waved to them that he was going to come in and counted down with his fingers when they saw thick red smoke coloring the air in the avenue right next to them. The wind was pushing the smoke in the wrong direction.

He felt the panic rising and made a real effort not to let himself be overwhelmed and keep his calm.

" **Wayne, Kent, where are you?!** " asked Queen's worried voice.

They heard the fighter planes. They only had a few seconds left. It was impossible to reach the convoy.

"In the buildings !" he shouted to Hanson and Collins on the radio.

He got up to take cover when Wayne's voice crackled:

" **I'm surrounded !** "

Kent wedged himself into the frame of a locked door, verifying that Collins and Hanson were hidden. Then he looked for the building where Wayne had gone. He fired on the enemy, risking being shot.

The whistle in the sky and the thud that followed interrupted everything. The avenue was bombed in less than ten seconds. It was ten seconds during which the earth shook, buildings cracked or collapsed, smoke and sand obstructed his vision and after such loud noises, no sound was audible.

Kent did not even realize that he had fallen during the bombing. It took him a while to get up, trying to see something, to hear something other than a shrill whistle that gave him a headache.

Staggering, he grabbed his M4 and walked towards the avenue. The bombardment had completely ruined the road and he had difficulty finding a way to cross it, between pieces of dead bodies and holes. He reached the other end of the street and called out.

"Wayne! Major! "

He clumsily looked for the button on his radio.

"Wayne! Do you hear me? "

The crackling of his radio seemed far away. The tinnitus he had prevented him from hearing well again. And the distant hiss became even more shrill: it was far from being a hearing problem.

" **Kent, if you're alive, get out of here! The second salvo is coming!** " Jones said on the radio.

So that was the whistle. Kent couldn't go into hiding. Not without Wayne.

"I've got to find the Major! "

" **Not now, Kent!** "

He continued to call him, staggering to find him. He searched a first section of a destroyed building before the second salvo fell.

This time, Kent settled against the already fallen rubble and protected his ears as he knelt on the ground. It was awful. He thought he was going to die. To die buried, to die under the bombardment, to die of fear. He didn't want to die. He prayed that he would not die.

Then the earth stopped shaking and he stood up, coughing at the abundance of dust that made the air unbreathable.

"Wayne! Damn it! "

He got up and looked for Wayne again. And when he saw a leg crushed under the stone, he panicked. He scrambled to get it out and realized it was an enemy. No Wayne.

He then heard someone coughing, not far away. He ran in the direction without seeing clearly. Then he saw him. Wayne, on the ground on the sidewalk, bleeding in the dust. No. Not him. Not Bruce.

"Bruce! "

He dropped down beside him as Bruce coughed. He looked at the extent of his injuries. A large enough missile fragment had pierced through the vest plate to hit Bruce in the side. Kent was in a panic.

"Fuck ! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Bruce won't leave me! "

He looked for a way to compress the wound, but he had nothing on hand except his standard bomb disposal equipment. He grabbed his radio:

"I found Wayne! Send me a doctor, he is seriously injured! "

The adrenaline had gone up so fast that it probably beat his fear at the race. Giving him back his lucidity, Kent thought that he had to act quickly to prevent Bruce from losing blood. Bruce was struggling to keep his eyes open as a trickle of blood came out of his mouth.

"Damn it! Bruce, please don't die! "

" **We have to wait for reinforcements Kent. Give us your position.** "

Kent swore.

"I don't know, I can't see! We must be in the avenue 500 meters from you! "

He turned his attention to Wayne. He was going to have to take off the vest to have a visibility. If he did that, he was going to have to remove the shrapnel.

"Bruce, I have to see it, so it's going to hurt you. "

He loosened the ties and with his knife tore off his uniform and shirt. He was bleeding, but if the metal piece had hit an artery he could die. And he was probably already bleeding internally.

He took a deep breath and lifted the vest, removing the shrapnel. Bruce held back a cry of pain as blood was pouring out of his wound. The artery was hit. Oh no. No. No, no and no! Bruce wasn't going to die! Not like that, not in front of him. Bruce was going to die old and spoiled.

"Hold on, please! "

"Kal... "

Bruce tried to talk but blood stopped him and he spat, trying to clear his airway. Kent had to act quickly. Thinking of a way to fix it while his hands were stained with his blood. He lifted slightly to see the state of the wound and immediately applied pressure again. He had to stop the artery from emptying. He couldn't glue it, fix it, or plug it. At the limit, he could keep his finger in the wound, but it would be impossible to transport him and he would enlarge the hole. He would have needed something to replace the shrapnel, something thin and flat. But apart from the shrapnel, he had nothing on hand that looked like it. Or... Maybe there was.

He freed one hand and took out his gourd, opening the neck. He then put his gourd next to it and searched under his uniform to retrieve his plates. His identification plates. He put them on his other hand and sprayed them with water. He knew it had nothing to do with disinfectant, but it was either that or nothing. By his estimation, they should fit.

He took them in his hand and positioned them correctly, took off his pressure and dipped the two steel plates into Bruce's wound. He didn't know if he had achieved his goal or if he had just destroyed his artery forever. But if he hadn't done anything, Bruce would have bled to death.

He then squeezed the edges of his skin and, being careful to make sure the chain of plates was outside, he took his electrical wire tape out of his kit. He sponged off the water and blood from his sleeve and stuck his skin with the tape, as if to hold the two pieces of his skin together. He then retrieved one of the care tapes he had in one of his pockets and rolled Bruce's side up.

"Get out of the way! "

He turned around to see the medical team. He did what he told them as they dropped off a stretcher.

"Make sure you take him away, his artery is hit! "

And so they did. The medical team picked him up as quickly as they arrived. Kent watched them leave, the adrenaline flowing back down all of a sudden. What happened next was almost erased from his memory.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent didn't come back to reality until he was examined by a doctor at the Green Zone Hospital. He still had Bruce's blood on his hands and hadn't had time to clean himself up. He hadn't had time to find out or do anything else. The bombing had not spared him. His recent injury had weakened his head and he had had a moment of absence, while still awake.

He didn't even remember when it happened to him. But now that he had been examined and given a test, he had to wait patiently for the results. The tinnitus was still present and unpleasant and gave him one hell of a headache. The doctors had given him medication for the pain, and now Kent was totally hooked on the effects.

He walked around the room with an empty look, realizing that Bruce's condition was critical and that he was probably at risk of dying. He may have ruined his chances of survival. Bruce was in danger of dying. The thought couldn't leave him.

Kent felt his heart squeeze as he waited alone in the exam room. Lying on a gurney, on an IV, his headache kept him conscious enough to realize what had just happened. Bruce, who was his pillar, his anchor, had just been seriously injured. He was in danger of losing him. He couldn't lose him, not him, not Bruce.

He looked up at the ceiling above his head, which was in bad shape and quite damaged. A bit like him. He wince at these thoughts, trying to pull himself together as a doctor or nurse arrived to take him back to the hallway. His lull was coming to an end. Once he was accessible again, he would have to armor himself so that his deep concern for Bruce wouldn't show through.

He was again assaulted by the noises in the corridors. It was bearable thanks to the painkillers but the bombs had made him more sensitive to the noise. He closed his eyes, passing his hands over his temples to massage them a little. His left hand followed the line of his big scar, where he could feel the hollow of the fracture under his fingers.

He reopened his eyes at the very moment a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Sergeant, we just got your results. There's nothing visible on the images, you'll be able to go back. However, if the tinnitus persists or if the pain is still present you will have to report it. "

Kent nodded his head. He hesitated for a moment before taking the opportunity to ask:

"Wait, I arrived with another soldier, Major Wayne. How is he doing? "

The doctor looked at him and hesitated before answering:

"I'll go and find out. Wayne, you say? "

Kent felt hope being born.

"Major Bruce Wayne. He arrived with a wound in his abdomen. "

The doctor nodded his head and went to the nursing station. Kent knew he was going to look at the medical records and he blessed this doctor for not having to go through the military to get the information. The doctor returned a few minutes later. He looked quite surprised and upset.

"It was you who had put your plates in his body?! "

Kent was surprised. He wanted answers, not to give them to the doctor.

"Yes. Is he alive? "

The doctor nodded slightly and Kent felt a huge weight come off his chest. It was as if he could breathe again. The doctor continued:

"I don't know. He was rushed out by helicopter with two other soldiers. I heard that you saved his life by doing that, they only talk about him in the emergency room. You had a lot of nerve to do what you did. But you probably saved his life. "

Kent tried to hold back his tears of relief. If Bruce was evacuated by helicopter, he would probably be sent to Switzerland or Germany for surgery. They had good surgeons. He was going to be in good hands. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes shining. It took a while before he answered the doctor:

"Thank you Doctor. "

The doctor tapped him on the shoulder and left. A few minutes later, Kent was sent back to the emergency room in his gurney where his IV was removed. After a complete check-up of everyone, Jones rang the bell for departure.

* * *

**_Day 160 (03/14)_ **

Clark woke up alone. He knew when he opened his eyes that he would never see Bruce again. He knew that from now on, he would be completely alone, without support, without presence, without security. Clark felt more helpless than ever. So it was with a huge weight on his heart that he forced himself to act as if what had happened had affected him less. Because he couldn't show and live his grief.

He had prepared himself, had taken up his service as any soldier should do despite the circumstances because they were at war. No rest for the brave, as they used to say. Clark was far from feeling brave, contrary to what others thought of him after he had stepped in to save Wayne's life. The truth was quite different: he had been scared, he had followed his heart and put himself in harm's way to save the man he... he loved.

Clark was somehow ashamed of his behavior because it wasn't really like him to act so stupid and recklessly, but he would do it again and again without hesitation to save Bruce. He knew this, and it didn't make him feel any better.

So it was with full awareness of all his mistakes that he knocked on Colonel Jones' door. The latter had demanded his report as quickly as possible and Clark had not tried to lie to protect himself. He had been afraid for his superior and he had gone to rescue him.

"Come in. "

Clark entered and waved, straight as a picket. He could already tell from Jones' gestures that he was more tense than usual and more closed. He felt as if he saw a copy of Bruce in front of him.

"At ease. Is that your report? "

He nodded his head.

"Yes, sir. "

Jones nodded.

"Do you have any idea that this story has come up pretty high and very quickly? "

Clark tried to remain impassive. He knew that Jones must have gotten a hell of a slap on the wrist. The U.S. Army was responsible for the serious condition of one of their senior soldiers. The soldier in question had had to possess one of the greatest fortunes in the country. Yes, Clark had suspected that it had gone high enough. He nodded his head. Jones walked slowly around his desk.

"I've received countless calls about this incident and about you, Kent. And you know as well as I do that calls aren't meant to talk rags. "

Jones was intimidating. By the presence he radiated, Clark felt almost crushed beneath him. Jones was clearly angry and certainly angry at him. He didn't respond, waiting for the next move as he felt a drop of sweat slide down his back.

"Your behaviour on the field was irresponsible, Kent. You could have been maimed or killed. You risked your life to rescue your superior. You disobeyed my orders. You know how I feel about that."

Jones' tone was harsh. He stood up to Clark and tore his ranks. He took his rafters off his shoulders and his uniform. Clark clenched his jaw, remaining as impassive as possible as he was being stripped of his status. Jones turned his back to return to his desk.

"I'm aware of that, sir. These are mistakes that I will not make again in the future. "

Jones put his ranks in a drawer and pulled out others.

"You see, you'll have to prove it to myself in the field. If it were up to me, I'd send you back just like that. But the phone calls I've received have been very supportive of you and have forced my hand a bit. You obviously saved the good guy's life. "

Jones tossed him the grades. Clark received them before lowering his eyes to what they were: the same chevrons as before but with a star in the center. He was promoted. By two grades.

"I... I don't understand, Sir. "

Jones came back in front of him.

"It's simple. You go from the rank of First Sergeant to Sergeant Major. Rest assured, it's not my decision and I'm only doing it because my hand is being forced. Prove that you are worthy of it, because at the slightest opportunity I would be happy to take it away from you. "

Jones wasn't kidding. Clark nodded. The Colonel resumed:

"They even wanted to medal you for it. I refused. Just as I refuse, after your suicidal and totally unreasonable behavior, to place men under your command. I place you under the command of Captain Palmer, newly promoted again. Your unit will remain the same. "

"At your orders, my Colonel. "

Jones shook his head with a sigh and went back behind his desk.

"You have potential Kent, don't waste it so foolishly. Anyway, congratulations Sergeant Major. Now get the hell out, I've got a lot of paperwork to do. "

Kent nodded and greeted the Colonel, who made no eye contact with him. He left without knowing how to react. He understood Jones' behavior and his delicate position. But a promotion, because Bruce had almost died...

He lowered his gaze on the grades. He was going to have to sew those and have his uniforms changed. It was unfair to receive favors on someone's life. On Bruce's. He was almost disgusted to be promoted. He was so disgusted that he had tears in his eyes.

He looked up and took a deep breath. He had to pull himself together and get stronger. He had to be able to be strong in turn because no one else would be strong for him. No one would replace Bruce. Now he had to live with the idea that he might never see him again and, most of all, live as if it didn't affect him in the least. Because he had no right to have that relationship with him. That thought would be even more in his heart.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

He looked all his room. Jones had asked him to gather Bruce's things and bring them to him so that it could be shipped back to the United States. It was too hard. Now that the shame of being promoted was over, the fear of never seeing Bruce again had overwhelmed him. He didn't know how he was going to make it through the end of his service, or how he was going to cope afterwards.

Clark realized that he and Bruce had shared a lot of things, but he and Bruce had never talked about how to get back together afterwards. All Clark knew was that Bruce had lived in New York City. He didn't know what military base he was on, he had no way to contact him, not by phone, email, or the postal service. He could ask for it. But to ask was to risk betraying their relationship. He couldn't take the risk.

He had twisted and turned in his head the most normal way to ask for contact information, but he knew that without a good reason, the army would not give it to him. Because it was still personal information and it was private. The chances of finding someone who had the information he was looking for and who would give it to him without asking questions were minimal, if not almost non-existent. Clark had to settle for silence.

He felt helpless and stupid. If only he had taken his contact information, if only he had some way of knowing how Bruce was doing... If there were complications during Bruce's transport or operations, he might never know. He would have to live in ignorance.

He heard a knock at the door. He pulled himself together before answering, clearing his voice beforehand:

"Yes? "

Barry passed his head and, after a brief hesitation, went inside, closing behind him.

"A problem ?" asked Clark, who was trying to regain his composure.

The Flash glanced around the room before answering:

"I thought I could help you sort through his things. "

Clark couldn't reject Barry, nor did he want to. He nodded his head and handed him a cardboard box.

In the silence, Barry was retrieving Bruce's uniforms from his storage area when Clark put his personal things back. Bruce had very little. It was sad to see that he had very few objects: he had no pictures and only utilitarian things. It made Clark sad, but he couldn't afford to show it.

They finished quite quickly. Clark hadn't felt like dwelling on every one of Bruce's things because of Barry, and anyway, it was better this way. It was less painful.

"Thanks for the help, Barry. "

He shrugged his shoulders as he carried his cardboard.

"That's normal. "

Clark retrieved the other two boxes. He would bring them back later. They were on their way out when Barry spoke again.

"Hey, Clark, wait. Was there... was there something going on between you and Bruce ? "

Clark felt his heart racing as he felt pale. He didn't know what to say. He was afraid to. Shit. He was totally freaking out. You could see it in his face as Barry nodded.

"Don't panic, I won't say anything. It was just to tell you that if you ever needed to vent your pain, there was someone you could trust. "

Clark looked at Barry. The blond man's face showed his sorrow and compassion. He knew he meant it when he said it. Barry's gesture meant a lot to Clark and it touched his heart. He nodded his head again, somehow relieved at not being judged but supported.

"Thank you, Barry. "

He gave him a slight smile, and after that they left the barracks.

* * *

_**Day 162 (03/16)** _

Kent was looking at the sand dunes through the window of his vehicle. Life was going on and his team had resumed their missions as if nothing had happened. The mood on the base was bleak, but in the field, everyone had to be focused and operational. He was.

He had regained hope. He knew Wayne, he knew he was a fighter and he also knew that on their continent, he was someone important. He would necessarily get the best possible care. Kent had convinced himself that it would be okay, because if things were going well for Bruce, they would be okay for him. He had hope.

Unconsciously touching the fabric of his mittens, he was preparing psychologically for their next intervention. He preferred to think of the softness of the fabric, reflecting its quality. Bruce must certainly have had expensive tastes in his civilian life. He smiled vaguely, thinking back to the time when Bruce had cut off the ends of his under-gloves to give them to him and protect his hands. He had been thoughtful with him for a long time and hadn't seen anything. Now those mittens were all he had left of him.

His vehicle stopped and he got out, following Palmer who was joining other soldiers. It was another day in Iraq, another intervention. He was ready to act, a new determination that was based on only one thing: the hope of seeing Bruce again one day.


	24. Week 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Agency aka Central Intelligence Agency aka the famous CIA

# Week 24

* * *

_**Day 165 (03/19)** _

The destruction of the United States Embassy still had quite serious repercussions. The bombing rained down on Iraq and the Iraqi government did not like to see its airspace so much trampled. So, after several days of negotiations, the two governments had reached an agreement, and they had to cooperate against the Islamic state.

While in high places all this seemed more or less under control, on the ground it was far from being the case. The U.S. military had difficulty cooperating with the Iraqi military police and things were tense. This intervention was no exception. Palmer and Stone's teams had been requisitioned to work on a new mission, in collaboration with the Iraqi authorities.

It wasn't going very well. The Iraqis had requested their contribution to the assault on a potential terrorist hideout. While they were all talking to each other to get organized, Stone had heard two Iraqi soldiers say they were going to arrest resistance fighters from their government. Immediately, Major Stone told Captain Palmer and their men. And there...

It was a total Arab clash. Palmer and Stone were arguing with the other two Iraqi military officers. It was out of the question that the U.S. military should be helping the Iraqi army for personal matters of state and not for counterterrorism. For an hour, the tone had been rising between all the men, so much so that they had all ended up taking aim when Palmer, too bloody, had raised the barrel of his gun.

The situation was far from settled. No one had made a radio call for backup on either side, but no one had lowered their weapon. Stone and Palmer were too badly positioned to lower theirs.

Kent thought the situation was totally stupid, but he couldn't afford to endanger his colleagues either. On the other hand, it took someone who was a little behind the scenes to intervene. He set out to break the silence.

" _We are not enemies. Let's lower our weapons._ "

The chief replied immediately:

" _Lower yours first! You say that and you threaten us first!_ "

Palmer replied at once:

" _It's you, you're lying to us!_ "

Stone, with his M4 still pointed at one of the leaders, never taking his eyes off them, gave Palmer a slight nudge to get his attention.

"We mustn't get in conflict with them. Put the gun down. "

From behind, Kent could see Palmer clenching his teeth. Before he gently lowered the gun from his barrel, knowing full well that Stone was right. Palmer gently pulled his fingers from the trigger and dropped his gun, which hung from his shoulder strap. He then raised his hands.

" _I've taken the first step, now it's your turn._ "

The officer Stone was pointing at, lowered his gun. The Major gave the order to lower the weapons and, hesitating for a few seconds, they obeyed. Kent, however, had kept his finger on the trigger and Prince, next to him, had put his hand on his handgun. Then the second officer ordered the guns down.

If no one was threatening each other with their guns, the tension was palpable in the air. The first Iraqi officer that Palmer had fought against, a certain Nasser, approached them with a menacing look in his eyes. Kent didn't like this guy at all.

" _We lost time. Now maybe our enemies have gone! Because of you!_ "

Kent unconsciously squeezed his fingers on his M4. Stone spoke before Palmer.

" _We're going to go and assist you. But if you've ever lied to us, it will have serious consequences."_

" _Are those threats?_ "

Behind the leader, the Iraqis raised their weapons again. Stone raised his fist to order his men to stay put. Reluctantly, Kent obeyed, as did the others.

" _These are facts. We're following you._ "

Stone's tone was relentless, as always. The Iraqis passed in front, forming a column and the Americans took the same formation. Kent was behind Palmer and behind him, Curry and Jordan were looking down on the Iraqis next to them.

They advanced slowly, until the Iraqis pointed to a gray house, which was attached to two other houses. They were all glued to this street. Impossible to go around, unless you go through the other two houses. Which they did. The Iraqis split into two groups and the Americans did the same, Palmer going through the back with his team while Stone stayed with his. Stewart, equipped with his Barrett just as Queen was, closed the march of his group. They often kept this deployment format, with the sniper at the rear.

Kent followed Palmer closely. Knocking on the door next door, they silenced the child who opened his mouth with one hand and Kent intimated the silence with a gesture, checking the house before moving to the back and covering the rest of his team. Apart from the woman's displeasure, their entry was silent and they were able to reach the back of the target house.

" _In place_ ," Palmer said on the radio.

Palmer stood by the door, followed by Jordan, Allen and Queen. Stone also joined them and positioned himself on the other side of the door.

" _So did we._ "

Kent stood in front of the door. It was his job to break it down.

" _ **Now!**_ "

He followed the Iraqi order to be coordinated. With a heavy kick, he kicked down the door, stepped back to let Stone and Palmer in and followed them.

" _Don't move! Get down on the ground!_ "

" _Get on the ground!_ "

It was screaming all over the place. A few shots were exchanged and Kent stopped a man in his tracks with a rifle butt. He held him at gunpoint while his colleagues passed by to inspect the rest of the house. Next door, Stone must have opened fire on a man with a gun, whose blood was spilling on the floor.

Their assault took only a few minutes, enough time to inspect the floors. From his position, Kent had not gone more than three meters into the house and had to rely on what he heard among the screams of his brothers in arms and the Iraqis, the shots from their guns and the screams that followed. It was both frustrating and stressful.

He felt a hand on his shoulder to let him know that everything was checked and Kent pulled away from the man on the ground for Jordan to tie him up while he was still holding him at gunpoint. Lantern then helped the man to his feet and they rounded up the live guys in the main room.

There were five men placed against the wall and two more bodies at the entrance. Allen and Curry had brought the other body from the rear of the house. Eight people in all, who were being photographed by Palmer and Stone. Prince and Stewart were taking fingerprints of each person with ink and paper.

"I guess we got a good pick at it ?" he asked as Queen came downstairs with some Iraqis.

Stone nodded his head and turned to the deminer.

"That's right. Go and take a look upstairs, Queen will show you. "

Kent nodded his head and walked towards the blonde sniper. He heard behind Palmer talking to the Iraqis accompanying him:

" _He's our explosives expert._ "

He frowned but the two Iraqis let him pass and he followed Queen. Upstairs were two large rooms, occupied by the Iraqis. Queen led him to the first room, which was full of documents. They all turned towards them.

" _I'm a bomb disposal expert._ "

The chief named Nasser, the most aggressive, stepped aside to make room for him around the table on which were laid plans.

"Look," he said in English with a strong accent.

Kent leaned over to look.

Immediately, the technical drawings caught his attention. Construction plans for time-delayed and remote-triggered devices. There were all sorts of different plans, for different constructions and uses. The quality of the drawings and plans differed from the rest of the house. There was no equipment to design the bombs here, nor any supplies to draw them. Kent turned to Queen:

"We have to call Counter-terrorism. "

Queen nodded.

"Stone took it upon himself to warn those in the Agency. "

Nasser laid his hand on him. Kent automatically tensed up on contact, before turning his head towards him when the Iraqi spoke:

" _What does that mean?_ "

Kent could hear the anxiety in his voice. Nasser was no longer the same man he was before the assault. They had been sincere with them. For a moment he felt guilty for having doubted them.

" _I don't know, I have to look at all this._ "

Nasser stepped aside and exchanged with the second leader, Abdelli.

Kent locked himself in his bubble to rummage through all the documents and files that were present in addition. It was clear that it was a specialist who had done all this. He had to check, and he was going to check now. Passing his M4 behind his back, he reached out his arms and took his mini magnifying glass out of his mine clearance kit, which was still in his pockets.

Looking closely at the drawings, he could confirm that it was done by hand, by the same person. And automatically, Kent could only think of the Dentist. There was no doubt, he was one and the same person, he was sure of it. A bomber as good as he was could make all the types of bombs he wanted, and with such ingenuity...

He could feel his heart beating fast as his suspicions were confirmed at each of his checks. Kent searched, again and again, went fast, focused on nothing else.

"Kent ? "asked Queen.

He took barely a second to answer him vaguely, without taking his eyes off what he was doing.

"Not now. "

He laid the plans out on the floor, examining them, looking through the files for the slightest clue to his identity. He had to catch him. He could do that. If he found his identity, or a clue, anti-terrorism would stop him. He would have managed to get his hands on him. He would have won against this bastard.

"Clark! "

Queen's authoritarian tone made him raise his head. And realize what he was doing. Kneeling on the ground, in the middle of the papers, he hadn't even realized that Stone, Allen and Prince had gone up. They looked at him as if he had two heads.

"Are you all right, Sergeant Major Kent?" asked Stone very formally.

Kent pulled himself together. He stood up to face his superior.

"Very good, Major. I think we've stumbled onto something very important. That would be the Dentist, sir. "

Stone raised his helmet to wipe his forehead.

"Shit, are you serious? "

"Absolutely, Sir. "

He saw Queen clench his jaw, his anger visible on his face, and he saw the disgust on Prince's face. Allen, on the other hand, clenched his fists, cracking his knuckles. Stone nodded his head.

"The anti-terrorists will be here in ten minutes. Put everything back in order before they arrive."

Kent clenched his jaw in turn. He would have wanted to continue to examine the elements present. But it wasn't his field. Reluctantly, he nodded his head.

"At your orders. "

Stone came back down. Prince followed him. Only one Iraqi and Arrow remained. After a few minutes, Allen was gone too.

Kent had put everything together in a hurry, targeting the papers and files he hadn't had time to look at. To save him time, Queen had collected those he had already seen. He found handwritten lists, in Arabic, giving the formula for the TATP and explanations for making it. On these sheets, there were all the necessary explanations, quantities, materials. It was like coming across a recipe.

He thought he was totally hallucinating. What was this bomber? A mercenary? We came to see him to buy bombs, or methods to make them? Kent grabbed the list and suddenly headed for the exit, leaving Queen in storage. He ran towards their prisoners, with whom Palmer was talking.

"Captain, I need to talk to them. "

Palmer raised an eyebrow, but in the face of Kent's urgency, he nodded his head and stepped back, giving a glance at the advice of the second Iraqi leader, who gave his authorization. Kent stood in front of them.

" _Where did you get all this?_ "

He showed the list in front of the Iraqis. He continued.

" _I know it was someone who gave you this. Who did? What's his name?_ "

No Iraqi answered him. His anger skyrocketed.

" _What's his name?! How much did you pay him, huh?! Where is he now?_ "

"Kent! "

He's pulling back. His tone had risen and Palmer had called him to order. He had to act differently. Kent took a confident stance, standing up laughing, his gaze reflecting all his contempt.

" _It's clear you're too stupid to create all this. What a shame to have had to pay for it and never be able to use it. In the end, you are useless to us._ "

Kent folded up the paper and turned his back on them.

" _Not so stupid, since we killed Americans with our bombs!_ "

Kent turned around just as Palmer stepped forward again, entering Kent's game:

" _You were lucky. You'll never beat all the bomb squad we have. We-_ "

Another prisoner started laughing, cutting Palmer.

" _Your bomb squad? Even your «_ Man of Steel _» will be fooled. He will see to it personally._ "

" _Who « he »_ ? "dropped Kent as he stepped forward.

He was immediately blocked by Palmer and pulled back by Stewart. Outside, cars braked in a squeal of tires. Anti-terrorism was there. The timing was bad, too bad.

" _Who's that?_ " Kent insisted as Stewart pulled him out.

"Kent, let's go," said Stewart.

The prisoners laughed. Palmer and Stewart led him outside. Kent was on edge. He stayed away when Palmer and Stone debriefed with the teams that were taking over. A few minutes later, the Humvees started up and they separated from the Iraqis, who stayed behind.

Kent watched the landscape go by through the window, nerves on edge. They knew his pseudonym. He was sure the prisoners didn't know it was him, but they seemed convinced that the bomber would try to get his skin. Kent had made it personal for a while, but now he had just gotten proof that it was a two-way thing. And if it happens, after that, he'll never hear about it again. He only hoped that anti-terrorism would succeed in stopping it.

* * *

_**Day 166 (03/20)** _

Clark was lying at his usual vantage point, looking up at the sky with a distant eye. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the end of the first day of spring. The days had gone by quickly since his arrival here. Even more so since Bruce was no longer here. He felt as if he hadn't seen him for centuries, as if he hadn't spoken to him. He missed Bruce. He missed him terribly. He was constantly in his thoughts except when he was thinking about the bombs. Bruce.

He let out a long, weary sigh. It had been a trying day. They had had to deal with another angry mob, and after that he had had to deal with a vehicle bomb, one of their own. His day had been stressful and the words of the previous day's Iraqi prisoners did not leave his mind. Palmer knew this was the cause of his change in behavior. At least in part.

He probably would have endured things better if Bruce had been there. That was for sure. But it had been seven days without him. Seven days, which had gone by quickly despite the heavy absence Clark felt. Even though he missed Bruce, he was a soldier at war and that harsh reality made it even harder to live. And despite that, he had to hold on. He had to hold on and he would hold on, no matter what, to get out of this hell and live his life. A life that he hoped Bruce could be a part of.

Clark put his hands under his head. He had Bruce under his skin. This guy he had hated at first sight was clearly in his mind his way out of all his problems. It was his representation of hope, the hope that he could be happy with someone, that he could have a fulfilled life away from war. It was what he wanted. He had clearly been able to define it with Magnus' sessions.

He went out of his mind when he heard someone approaching and coming to sit next to him.

"Coffee? " asked the Flash, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Clark straightened up, gazing out over the barely perceptible sand dunes in the night. There weren't many people there at that hour. He nodded his head and Barry handed him a thermos.

"Thank you. What are you doing here ?" he asked, surprised to see Barry without Ollie or Hal.

Barry shrugged.

"I thought you might need some company after all this. The Bat's gone, so... I thought it would be good for you, not to be too lonely. "

Clark smiled a smile, touched by Barry's attention.

"Thank you. Bruce may not have talked much, but he had the merit of being there. "

Barry laughed.

"It's clear that I can hardly imagine him talking rags! "

Clark smiled as he turned his head towards the dunes. It's true that Bruce didn't talk a lot about trivial things. But he had always listened to him. It was really in his actions, that Bruce showed his attachment. Not in words. In Bruce's eyes, actions were probably more valuable and that was something Clark understood and accepted. He also valued it very much. He sighed at the thought.

"I miss him. "

He didn't see Barry's grimace, but he felt his comforting pat on the shoulder.

"We all miss him. Maybe less than you do, but we miss him. And in two months, Hal is coming home. We're going to miss him too. "

Clark nodded.

"I think a lot of us are not going to be on OpEx anymore. "

Barry shrugged.

"The kids will take over. I think we've done enough of our patriotic duty. "

Clark agreed.

"And what are you gonna do when you get home? "

The blond man rubbed his short hair.

"I don't know. Cop, maybe. We're all going to the cops. "

The two men laughed slightly. It was true that their reconversions often went towards the same type of job. Barry clapped his hands and stood up.

"Ready for a poker ? "

Clark smiled and picked up the thermos as he got up.

"Definitely! "

* * *

**_Day 169 (03/23)_ **

Kent was totally on guard. With his frying pan, walking at the head of an armored tank convoy, he was moving slowly, forced to stop every time his detector sounded. It rang often. Once again, he found himself on a road lined with metal objects hidden under the sand. The bombing had made it easier to turn the ground over and with that, it was even easier to hide IEDs. « God bless America ». How ironic.

He stopped for the umpteenth time when his camera rang, to check the ground. Shrapnel. What a chance to go through there again! He resumed his route with a sigh:

"It may take a long time, my Colonel. "

" **As long as you stay focused, I don't care.** " Jones replied on the radio.

Kent had suspected he would say something like that. He grunted, resuming his route, observing the ground and the surrounding area each time.

Tension was omnipresent. With every step he took, he feared he might run into an IED. Every step he took, he feared it would be his last. He scanned the surrounding area, without seeing any observers. No one on the rooftops, no one at the windows, no one in the street. The setting reminded him of one of those films about the apocalypse, or the end of the world. Destroyed buildings and not a single sign of life. There wasn't even an animal around.

Kent tensed up when he noticed a silhouette in the corner of his eye. Too quick to identify what it was, but he was sure it was someone. He was trained for this.

"Movement at 11 o'clock, 50 meters. Anyone have a visual? "

He turned his head to Jordan, to his left, who shook his head negatively. To his right, Allen did the same thing when he turned his head towards him.

"Negative, Kent. " said Stewart, who was stationed several yards away as a sniper.

" **You're still off-camera for Thompson and me.** " Queen replied.

Kent turned toward the convoy. He was away from the others, but he heard on the radio:

" **Are you sure about what you saw, Kent?** "asked Palmer.

He looked again in the direction he had seen someone. He walked slowly, clutching the handle of his frying pan.

"Positive. 50 meters at eleven o'clock. "

There were a few seconds of silence before he heard Stone say:

" **All right. No one has the person in sight. We'll do it another way. Jordan, Allen, on the signal, you check this out. Kent, you'll stand back.** "

He hesitated before deciding to follow orders: it was the safest decision for him. He did not know if there was an IED.

" **Stewart, give us a diversion.** " continued Stone.

" **Copy that.** "

Less than a minute later, they heard three shots from a sniper rifle. Allen passed behind him to join Jordan and they headed to the position Kent had indicated. He saw them disappear behind a building wall.

They waited. The silence was heavy for Kent. They were all forced to wait and now that nothing was happening, he was even more stressed. Until he heard screams, followed by shots. His first reflex was to move. He stopped dead two steps later, remembering his situation on a potential minefield and wearing his protective gear.

He waited. Alone, on totally open ground, in total silence, while behind him, the convoy had stopped. Kent held his hand to his weapon as a reflex. He knew that behind him, all the soldiers were on the lookout.

" **We got the guy. We've got a wire detonator here.** "

Kent breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the voice of the Flash. He left his frying pan on the floor, walked in a straight line to the side and walked along the walls to make sure he didn't walk into an unverified area.

"On my way. "

" **Copy that, Allen. Kent, we've got your back.** "

He went over the wall behind which he had seen his colleagues disappear and found them at the end of the street, a corpse of a young teenager at their feet. Kent made a grimace as he looked at him. He was barely an adult. In his early twenties. It was a sad sight.

For their part, Allen and Jordan also had difficulty accepting. The grief could be read on their faces and Kent tapped the Flash's shoulder, the closest to him, to show them his support.

"You guys did the right thing. "

In the boy's hand, Kent could clearly see the switch. If he was there with it, the wire couldn't have been far away. All he had to do was look around for two minutes to find the thick blue wire sticking out of the sand.

"I have the wire," he said on the radio.

Behind him, Jordan searched the kid's pockets as Kent stuffed the switch into his pocket, winding the wire and carefully pulling it out of the ground.

" **Got it. I'm coming in with Curry, guys. We're going to check the perimeter.** " says Palmer.

Kent saw them heading towards them and they passed each other. The deminer soon found himself in the middle of the road and pulled an IED out of the sand, 15 meters in front of his frying pan. At the sight of the device and the amount of explosives, if the IED had been triggered, Kent would have jumped. The kid must not have known the size of the blast zone.

"I'm on it. You guys saved my life. "

" **Thanks, Steel.** "

Sadness could be heard in Allen's voice. It was never pleasant to live, but he had just given a "justification" for their act. It would allow them to live with it better. Kent took a deep breath to focus again on the device in front of him.

The bomb was not difficult to defuse. Once Kent had identified the assembly, it was simple for him to deal with it without resorting to the deliberately triggered explosion. Half an hour after Stewart's diversion, they were back on their way, Kent equipped with his frying pan. He couldn't wait for this routine to end for good. After all this, he would be free to look for Bruce.


	25. Week 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I particularly like this chapter, I hope you will like it as much. "Blast" will end in 3 chapters.

# Week 25

* * *

_**Day 173 (03/27)** _

Clark was anxious. Constantly. He couldn't get rid of this pervasive anxiety that he was experiencing. He had spoken with Magnus, with Barry, with Hal, Oliver, Diana... He had played basketball, he had done shooting sessions, combat and other sports. Diana even gave him some Krav Maga lessons and learned some Ju-jitsu moves. These last lessons with her were useful to make him forget his current situation during the sessions. Afterwards, his thoughts always came back to the same subjects: Bruce, and this story of the bomber nicknamed "The Dentist".

Bruce. He hadn't heard from Bruce and it was eating him up inside. No one did. He had no way to contact him and even Colonel Jones didn't have any more information. So Clark didn't know if Bruce had recovered from his injuries or if he had died. Finally, if there was no fallout from Jones, he could conclude that Bruce was alive. But in what condition?

Was Bruce in a coma, or had he returned home? Was he going to return to the field, or would he choose a desk job? Was he going to leave the military and go back to being the CEO he always should have been? Not a chance. Bruce was a man of action. He would return to the field if he had the ability. But Clark didn't even know if he did. It was killing him not to know.

He wished he could have talked to him. To be with him. To feel his presence. To hear his voice. To be able to touch him. He wished Bruce could have been there to comfort him about the bomber, who obviously knew of his existence. It scared the hell out of him. The thought of knowing that a bomber as talented as the Dentist wanted him personally, it was scary.

But... he hadn't heard anything about it in the last few days. Anti-terrorism had taken over the reins and had no reason to give them any news about their progress. That didn't reassure Clark, who suspected that the guys in their cell might have other concerns with everything that was going on other than dealing with one bomber.

He unconsciously touched his torso, still not used to the absence of his plates. Jones had told him that he wouldn't be able to get them back until his next leave in three weeks. Three weeks from now. It was going to be a long time until then. But with two weeks leave, he would have time to find Bruce and check on him. It was that glimmer of hope that kept him from going crazy.

He sometimes wondered, if Bruce was ever awake, if he was thinking about him. If Bruce was also looking forward to seeing him again, or if he was thinking of putting their story aside and not coming back to him. Clark doubted that Bruce could do this. Somehow he also hoped that Bruce was not the kind of man to do this. Bruce... no, he was reliable. Honest, sincere. Bruce had feelings for him. He wouldn't let him.

It was with these kinds of thoughts that Clark would fall asleep at night, sometimes dreaming of Bruce's presence, sometimes waking up disappointed at his absence. He would give everything he had so he could see the glacier blue of his eyes again, touch his warm, soft skin and hear the softness of his voice as he whispered. Yes, Clark would give anything to have him around.

* * *

_**Day 175 (03/29)** _

It was pretty hot today. Kent was relieved not to have to wear his protective gear for his mission. He would have ended up melting inside. Sitting in the dunes in the sunshine, it didn't really feel like it was 86°F. The warm season was coming.

He covered his face when the wind lifted the dust and readjusted his sunglasses. It was good for him, though, a little sun and warmth. The air made the impact of the rays on the skin less heavy.

"Steel! Let's play again! Barry will take over. "

He turned around and raised his hand before getting up, giving Allen a light pat on the shoulder as he passed by.

"Thanks man. "

The Flash gave him a sigh:

"This really is the most boring guard station in the world! "

Kent laughed.

"It's clear! "

They were more than 200km from their base, in the middle of the desert. They had come to relay other colleagues to hold the refreshment post. Who knows how they ended up there, knowing that there were bases closer by and that this kind of work was reserved for recruits. Anyway, their captain had the good idea to bring back some maps.

Kent settled into Barry's chair. They were located high up, next to several hangars that they guarded, and one of them always kept an eye on the road. The place wasn't hard to watch, they had a good view of the surroundings. Difficult to catch them on foot, even more so by car.

Palmer dealt the cards. Kent lifted them up just to see what he had as Queen made the bet.

"I'm going for $20. "

Kent winced. He didn't have a lot of dollars on him, and he wasn't walking around with a wad of Iraqi dollars either.

"I'm in," Jordan continued.

Kent took a few rolled up bills out of one of his jacket pockets. He couldn't have had more than 50 dollars.

"Same," he said, hoping it'll pass the game.

He was going to have to be clever and have a good game if he wanted to win.

"It's within your means ?" Palmer laughed, playing right after him.

He turned over the cards as Kent made a face at the cards that were revealed:

"I'm going to run out real quick. "

"Oh come on Steel, you have to play with risk! I raise 40 !" Queen let go with a huge smile.

Kent gritted his teeth and Jordan did the same.

"You're a bastard Ollie. "

The sniper had a big smile on his face.

"I know. You want to bet, Hal? "

"Oh, shut up. I'm in, yeah. "

Kent made a face.

"Sorry I don't have enough. "

He was booed by the other three players.

"Oh come on Kent! You can make it up in dinars! "

"I knew you had nothing in your pants! "

"Go blow up your money, or we'll give you credit! "

Kent grunted and gave in. He threw the rest of his dollars and made up with his dinars.

"There you go. "

Palmer followed, too. He turned over the last card. There was an explosion of reaction. The Captain banged his fist on the table, Ollie threw his cards, and Hal showed a slight smile. They took turns turning over their cards.

"A pair of tens. "

"A trio of queens! "

Kent smiled.

"A flush! "

"A pair of 8s... "

He picked up the winnings from the table and brought them back to himself, in front of Palmer and Jordan's disappointed look. Queen smiled an amused smile:

"I always forget how well you know how to hide any game! "

The bomb-disposal expert smiled a carnivorous smile:

"Thank you for your donations guys! "

Jordan gave him a nice finger of honor.

"Vehicles to the East !" Allen shouted.

They all grabbed their weapons, Kent immediately giving up the idea of collecting his winnings. Arming his M4, he looked through his scope in the direction Allen had pointed. Their captain then ordered:

"Queen, you go to the right. Identify them. "

Their sniper activated with his Barrett, tumbling down the dune to take cover behind a shed. The others followed Palmer behind the nearest cover. In the distance, three vehicles lifted the sand and headed towards them.

" **That's two Humvees and a truck. An escort.** "

Kent allowed himself to take out his monocular binoculars, as Palmer did. He saw that both the lead vehicle and the tail vehicle were equipped with heavy machine guns.

"Okay, in five minutes they'll be here. Jordan, you're going to come and greet them with me. The rest of you stay back. If anything goes wrong you shoot them. "

Kent nodded his head and Palmer left with Lantern.

Indicating to Queen to stay further back to hold his sniper position, he and Allen positioned themselves on either side of the main entrance, ready to fire. Kent could see the vehicles approaching through his scope. The guys in the lead vehicle did not look very comfortable with their sunglasses on. But Kent could see that they looked more like Americans.

Palmer moved towards them as they approached, raising one hand. The convoy stopped, the lead vehicle lowering its window to Palmer's height. They were visibly swapping. A few seconds later, Palmer grabbed his radio while backing up, raising his hand to authorize the passage.

" **They're Agency guys.** "

Kent was surprised by the use of the term. "The Agency" was the CIA. But the counter-terrorism guys were mostly CIA, and he had never heard Palmer call them that. Why today?

The Humvees parked on the dune as the truck pulled up in the middle of the hangars. He understood the distinction Palmer made when he saw that the people getting out of the vehicles were not at all dressed for the country. Except for the drivers and their front passenger who were rangers, the others wore a light shirt and black or grey pants instead. Even their shoes did not fit. They must have set foot on Iraqi soil recently.

"Good morning gentlemen," one of them said, taking off his glasses. "We've come to make a small withdrawal. "

As Palmer and Lantern were still coming back, Kent stepped forward.

"Do you have a list? "

The guy, who really reminded him of a guy straight out of a movie, presented him with a piece of paper from his pocket. Kent retrieved it and read it, trying to remain impassive. The arsenal these guys were asking for wasn't a small thing. It was clearly heavy weaponry. Antitank, rocket launchers, heavy grenades. He looked up as Palmer arrived and handed him the list.

"Their demands. "

Palmer retrieved the paper and read it under oath.

"I don't know what you're going to do with that, but I certainly don't want to be around here. Give them what they want, Kent. I'll take care of the register. "

Kent nodded. He asked Jordan to help him get the missile crates out and ordered Queen and Allen to get the launchers.

It took longer than expected to get them on the truck. The crates were heavy and the weapons had to be stored properly to prevent them from tipping over. Kent really wondered why they needed all this. Especially since these guys, you never really knew what they were doing.

None of them helped them load. Only the rangers did, but the CIA guys obviously felt very much above them. It was true, Kent was aware of that. But he had always found guys like them dubious, those who were field agents, because they were unpredictable and felt no pity. They were going to attack a terrorist city like destroying a refugee camp. Kent believed that these guys had no boundaries and could not be trusted. Bruce was less negative than he was on the subject.

Thinking about Bruce was heartbreaking for him for a second. It wasn't the place or the place to think about him, but he was always there and it was always painful. He had to refocus on the moment when the CIA guys got back in their vehicles. Their guard was back on.

They waited until the vehicles were out of their line of sight before returning to their table. Allen resumed his guard as they pensively sat down to play again. Kent hesitated. He didn't really feel like playing anymore. Then he glanced at the table and growled:

"Who the hell has taken my winnings?! "

Only a burst of laughter answered him and that was enough to make him change his mind.

* * *

_**Day 177 (03/31)** _

A good hot shower to relieve your muscles. He really needed it. His day had been long, exhausting and his muscles were sore. Clark closed his eyes as he rinsed out the regulation few millimeters of hair he had. His peace of mind didn't last long; someone was knocking hard at his door.

He finished rinsing quickly and walked out with a towel around his waist. He opened in Palmer.

"In the Humvee, now! "

Clark frowned but followed the order. They were normally off duty. He barely dried off, quickly putting on his shirt and uniform and the bare necessities of his gear and then he sped outside.

He climbed into the vehicle and listened attentively to Palmer, who informed them of their sudden mission. He went straight to the point:

"You're the one we're asking for, Kent. Anti-terrorism thinks they have found the Dentist's hideout. The assault is scheduled to take place in less than an hour and a half. They want you there. "

Clark turned his head to Barry and Oliver, stunned. In an hour and a half? They didn't even have time to be properly briefed on the assault plan!

"We're going to have to be on the hook," Oliver commented.

The latter checked his Barrett. The others did the same and continued on the rest of the trip in silence.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

They had gathered to take stock 3 kilometers from the target, behind huge rocks. In this remote part of the desert, there were countless small kasbahs, all more impressive than each other, but only one of them interested them. Isolated from the others, their target was in the mountains, high up in the rock.

Kent looked around with a keen eye. They were going to take part in the assault on the large building alongside the Marines, who were escorting four CIA counter-terrorist operatives. Clearly, it was the redheaded Boone who led the operation with her colleagues Agents Stampton, Piagelli and Charles.

He didn't know what to think of them or of this operation. When he had asked about their source, they did not want to answer. But Kent realized during the debriefing that one of the men they had captured the week before had probably given up. Only, if the Dentist had gotten wind of their arrest, he might as well have left.

Marine assault units took the lead while Palmer's team stayed behind with Piagelli, the behavioural expert. He seemed to be the least experienced in the field. Moving forward in three separate columns, they passed through the three entrances. Kent stood behind Palmer and was followed by Jordan, Piagelli, Queen and Allen. The area was unguarded.

Kent did not like it. He had imagined the Dentist to be a loner, which might have been due to a lack of guards, but he didn't think he would occupy such a...large house. Palmer kicked in the first door at the signal of the Marines.

Pointing the barrel of his gun over Palmer's shoulder, he checked the sides for him and relayed orders to the others. Advancing in the greatest of silences, they searched the Kasbah annexes without finding anything. No equipment, no weapons, no storage. There was nothing more than completely empty space, without a trace on the ground.

"Annexes clear," Palmer whispered on the radio.

There was no immediate response. It only arrived when they were moving along the kasbah to observe the surroundings and if there were any other hiding places outside on the terraces.

" **Upstairs was clear.** " said Hewlett, the marine who led the second team.

They waited at the back of the huge house.

" **The first floor is clear. Join us.** " answered Major Isles, the chief of the marines.

Palmer gave the order to enter. None of them checked the area a second time: they trusted each other. Kent followed the movement until they found Agent Charles and a Marine.

"They all went down. "

Charles pointed to the trap door on the ground. There was a large metal trap door under the carpet that must have been three feet wide. Wide enough to let some material through.

"They should have waited for us," Palmer grumbled.

" **We might have something. Get Kent in here**. "

Palmer looked up to the sky and told the deminer to come down. His team followed him. Kent ventured into the underground corridor, regretting not having his night vision mask. He followed the glow-in-the-dark sticks on the ground, left by the teams before them. He then arrived in a large room where the soldiers had packed up.

"What's wrong? " he asked.

The shots that followed alerted them all. Kent turned sharply toward the corridor from which they had come, his legs throwing him behind his comrades. All they heard was the sound of the plate closing and locking.

"Charles, Welles, answer!" Major Isles shouted on the radio.

"Charles!" added the CIA girl.

There was a long silence before Queen began to hit the metal plate. It was heavy, even if several people pushed it, it would be impossible for them to break the hinges.

"We are locked in. "

"Let me try," let loose a marine.

Kent let the muscle mass pass through, even bigger and wider than he was. If this mountain couldn't do it, we'd have to find another exit on the other side. He turned towards Isles.

"What was the reason you called me here? "

The face of Isles was illuminated only by the sticks. But it was enough for Kent to see his dismay.

"Fuck it. "

Isles turned around, signaling Kent to follow him while behind them, the marines took turns trying to lift the hatch.

The room was only illuminated by a few sticks so Kent took out his flashlight. Isles accompanied him. Their light was directed onto a huge high work table, where several large objects were placed on top, covered with a tarpaulin. Kent glanced underneath. Big barrels. It was a bad sign.

"You'd better look for another way out quickly," he let go.

Isles nodded his head.

"There's another corridor on this side. " He pointed to it. "We'll go and see. "

Kent heard Isles call four other Marines. Allen came to join him.

"That's what I think ?" asked the blond, worried.

The bomb-disposal officer made a face.

"I wish I could tell you that it didn't. Help me lift the tarp. "

Kent stuck the lamp between his teeth, and with Allen they removed the big tarp. His friend complained when their fear was revealed to them.

"Shit. "

On the table, Kent could count eight large blue barrels, with the flammable symbol on them, connected to a timer that had already started. A little over 17 minutes. He snapped his neck and walked the light to follow the wires. Plastic was used as an igniter and was placed on all the openings of the barrels. When the timer went back to zero, the plastic would blow up and the flammable products would boost the explosion. In addition, the dimensions of the room and its structure would concentrate the explosion upwards. If his calculations were correct, it would be enough to blow most of the house down on top of them.

"You found a way out ?" Boone asked when she arrived.

She turned her head towards them and noticed the device they were revealing to the light.

"Oh. "

Kent began to react. There was no time to waste. He pulled out his M4 as he explained:

"We have 16 minutes. Find a way out," he let go, climbing carefully on the table for a better view.

He didn't know what Boone was doing and didn't care any more: all his attention had to be on that bomb. 16 minutes. He unpacked his tools and retrieved his tape and cutting pliers. The plastic was not difficult to defuse. But he was facing the Dentist. All the wires were black.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand while the marines were massaging around them again.

"How many gunshots do you think were fired?" Boone asked, who had apparently returned.

"Six or seven," replied one marine.

"6, " confirmed Queen and Palmer in chorus.

Boone sighed. Stampton, another CIA agent, spoke:

"There is a good chance Charles is dead. And so is your colleague. I'm sorry. "

A silence answered him and Kent, squinting, directed his light following the wires to see their connections and determine the role of the wires.

"The other exit is also locked," Isles said as he returned. "How much time do we have? "

Kent looked at the meter.

"14 minutes. "

Whispers rose in the room. Panic had just reached its peak.

"You think you can do it ?" asked Isles.

He didn't raise his head to answer.

"I don't know. I need calm and light. "

Allen, always close to him, lit up the room. Isles stood between them.

"I'm going to do it. The others, in the corridors! "

Boone wanted to protest but got her nose out of the way.

"I trust you, Clark. "

"You're our Man of Steel. "

Kent looked up at Allen and Jordan. He hadn't seen the latter, but he was grateful to them.

"Thank you guys. "

Isles retrieved Allen's lamp and, like the bomb squad, went up in front of Kent to light it. The table creaked, but did not bend for a second. Kent sighed with relief. 12minutes.

12 minutes, and 8 zones to neutralize. He was not to think about failure. He had to go straight to the point. No way out. No hesitation possible. Less than two minutes per zone. He was so stressed that his hands were sweating and this time he didn't have his fetish mittens to mop it up. His fingers were shaking and slipping on the wires. He had less than 2 minutes for each zone.

"Somebody else, quickly! " he shouted.

"I'm here!" Boone replied immediately.

His voice was close. Kent concluded that she had stayed. He stretched the tape in the direction of her voice.

"Cut me about fifteen little bits, quick! "

He cut some threads and kept the strands in his fingers. If they connected again, he risked blowing up the whole thing.

"Wrap up the cut ends, quickly. "

He couldn't afford to keep one hand still.

"Got it. "

As soon as it took over, he moved. Kent sped up the movement, while acting as cool as he could to cut the wires. He did it thoughtfully but no longer hesitated: he was always doing double or nothing. If he was wrong, everyone here would die. Not a single one would survive such a concentrated explosion, nor the collapse of the house on them. If he was wrong, no one would blame him.

Kent was at the fifth barrel when he had only five minutes left. 5 minutes for 3 barrels. They had a chance. A very small one. He saw hope reborn and accelerated. Next to him, Boone was performing her task with extreme thoroughness and efficiency. She did not hinder him in any of his movements. Kent had spotted the connection diagram. They were going to make it.

He cut the last wire and the clock stopped at 47 seconds. He didn't let up until Boone secured the wires.

"We... We made it ? "dare to ask for Isles.

Kent couldn't even answer because he was so relieved. Gently nodding away from the table, his first reflex was to back away awkwardly and fall against the wall, quickly detaching his helmet. He was dying of heat. He was soaked with sweat. He was literally drenched in sweat. He was dripping everywhere.

"That's it, guys! We'll live a few more minutes !" let go of Isles.

Kent took a calm breath as he saw Boone's outstretched hand in front of him. He grabbed it and stood up.

"Thank you," she said with a sincere smile.

Kent shook his head.

"It's my job. "

He retrieved his water flask as shouts of joy filled the room. Kent emptied half his canteen on his head as Isles called everyone to order:

"Calm down guys! We're still trapped here. What does radio contact mean? "

"Still no signal, Major. We're trapped. "

Isles nodded.

"Can we move this crap now? "

Kent nodded negatively.

"Let me get the plastic out of the barrels. Once I've taken the whole thing apart you can move the barrels. "

He went back to the table and started to recover the explosive material. It wasn't C4, but the grayish appearance of modeling clay was a strong reminder of it. Perhaps C3. Or C2.

"You're going to take out whatever you have on you and put it on this table when we clear it. We'll see what we can do to clear an opening. In the meantime, we're saving our food and oxygen. "

Kent made a grimace: he had emptied half of his water on his head without thinking that he might need it. On top of that, his throat was ultra dry. It was always this kind of situation that made him feel really silly.

"I finished. Move them carefully, you never know. "

Isles indicated the second lane.

"Put it in. "

Kent did as the others did and placed his equipment on the table. Everything was sorted automatically: food on one side, explosive weapons on the other, edged weapons in the middle, and the rest put away together. The deminer had his eyes riveted on the plastic.

While everyone was having a little chat, Kent withdrew, going to examine the hatch. He spotted the sensitive points that could give way under pressure or a strong thrust.

"You want help, Steel ?" Queen asked, shining his light into the space where the hinges of the hinges could be seen. Luckily, the hatch opened to the outside.

"Yes, thank you. Direct the light there. Do you think that if we manage to blow this corner, we'll be able to break the second hinge by pushing? "

Queen approached to get a better view. Kent moved away to let him stick his nose to the thin opening line. We couldn't see much.

"The plate looked old. Maybe the hinges are rusty. We could try. Do you have an idea? "

Kent made a face.

"You could say that. It's super dangerous and very stupid. "

Queen shrugged.

"We're not that close, after what you just did to us, the Marines might think you're capable of lifting mountains! "

Queen laughed, followed by Kent. In such a stressful situation, it felt really good.

"So I hope it'll works. "

They turned around and went back to the room. Isles was already giving instructions. Palmer let him through.

"Kent has an idea," he said at once.

He hadn't told his superior. He raised an eyebrow in his direction and shrugged his shoulders:

"You're the only one who's excited. Well, except for Jordan, it must be pathological for him. "

"Hey !" replied Jordan, outraged.

Their comrades laughed, taking a few Marines and Officer Piagelli with them. Kent kept a slight smile on his face, already thinking about how he could proceed.

"Your idea, Kent ? "said Boone.

He approached the table and looked at the plastic, then raised his head:

"We're going to weaken the door by blowing it off. "

There was a long silence before Jordan finally chuckled.

"Your idea is great," he said.

Boone stared at him in amazement as Isles glanced at Hewlett, her second in command.

"How long will it take? "

Kent thought. He was more used to defusing bombs than making them. The reverse process was no more difficult, it just took longer.

"An hour. Maybe two. "

Isles nodded.

"All right then, let's do it now! We'll take turns to enlighten you, the others stand by! "

"At your command! "

Kent reflects. From what he remembered, the plate was about 5cm thick. It was probably steel, or hopefully iron. It would blow up easily. He retrieved a piece of plastic and estimated the quantity for the charge. If he could concentrate the explosion in one direction only, it would contain the whole thing and it would be more effective. Then he had the question of ignition...

He bit his lip, looking for a way to light the charge that wouldn't be too dangerous. His first ideas led to the loss of a hand automatically. It was necessary to light from a distance to avoid the slightest risk. But how to do this?

He looked at the ground. Sand. If something caught fire, he could suffocate it. That's when his first fear appeared: if the power of the explosion failed, they would lose oxygen and add thick smoke that could suffocate them. What a jinx.

He rubbed his neck, stupidly kneading his plastic. Well, that's good. He would see what would happen. On the whole, he could already put the plastic down. All he had to do was figure out how to direct the explosion and how to ignite it.

He took the plastic with him and applied it to the hatch, all along the hinges. The area of application was longer, but since it was at an angle, he could better contain the explosion. Provided he could find a way to hold it all together. Contain. It shouldn't be very complicated, should it?

He came back into the room, circling around while he was thinking. Most of the soldiers had been sitting on the ground, talking, fiddling with things in their hands to pass the time. Queen was making adjustments to her Barrett, Allen was talking to Jordan and Palmer was just fixing the floor by loosening his helmet. The helmets.

Kent looked for his helmet and retrieved it. The helmets, with reinforced material. It pissed that they were so round! He could have used it to put them against the plastic. But unless he knew how to flatten them, he couldn't use them. What a piece of shit! That would have been the fucking ideal!

He threw his helmet around in a rage, thinking. Then he felt stupid. Very, very stupid. He lowered his eyes on his vest, then raised his head as he took out his ventral reinforcement plate.

"Who else has steel reinforcement? "

All the soldiers looked at him.

"We all have," Isles answered. "We had anticipated the mission. "

Kent nodded.

"I need ten. "

All the soldiers took their extra plates out of their bulletproof vests. That was more than he needed. He took out his tape, unrolled it and hesitated for a moment. He could use it to fix them against the plate. If he tied them together with it, he wouldn't have any more for the wall.

He looked around the table. Chewing gum. There was always someone walking around with gum on him. He grabbed the object of his lust: the packet was almost full. He threw it to the soldier closest to him.

"I need gum. They have to stick. I want as much as possible. If someone else has some, let him spin them! "

He took advantage of this little time to drink a little and started thinking about how to turn it all on. Flammable liquid cans could be dangerous to use. If the flames were too strong, he might as well set them on fire. He could make the passage inaccessible.

He rubbed his chin and neck, walking in reflection as chewing sounds were heard throughout the room. Unbearable, but necessary.

"You have a problem ?" Hewlett asked.

Kent stopped walking to answer.

"Burning the plastic. "

"Use the timer," Boone suggested. "There are 47 seconds left. "

Kent shook his head and it was someone else who countered the idea: Agent Stampton.

"Too risky. If we reconnect the timer, we risk blowing it up immediately. "

Bonne nodded her head.

"Oh. Hence the use of the adhesive. "

The deminer nodded his head.

"And I suppose the use of the products is risky too. "

He approved again of what Isles said.

"The powder, otherwise. "

Kent turned his head to Palmer, stunned. He hadn't thought about it for a second. His face lit up.

"Powder! The old-fashioned way! I need powder. Ollie, hand me your Barrett charger, please. "

Queen stood up.

"We'll help you empty the cartridges. "

Jordan, Allen and Palmer helped her, chewing their gum. Hewlett and two other Marines also emptied the bullets from their cartridges. They poured all the powder into Kent's helmet, and Kent began to collect the gum as he went along.

It was pretty disgusting, collecting it with everyone's saliva, but it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever done in his life. He fixed the gum on the plates to make a thick layer by layering it on top of each other.

The gum idea seemed to work even better than the original idea of tape. Kent left to fix them with Piagelli and another marine. While they held the plates against the corner, Kent was in charge of fixing them, keeping the plates glued together.

He made sure that the plates were held in place by using all of his roller and any others he had on hand as back-up. When it was finished, he returned to the others who had finished with the powder.

"You should have enough," Palmer said, handing him the helmet.

Kent nodded.

"I'm going to put the gunpowder on. Then we'll blow it up and get out of here! "

Then he went back to his device. Kent felt stupid about his idea. Gravity. The powder couldn't hold against the rock face without getting wet and under these conditions, it wouldn't catch fire. You had to put the powder in contact with the plastic, but ignite it differently. Difficult to do with the distance now. He was going to have to find a time delay device.

"Somebody smokes? "

A marine threw a packet with a few matches stuck in it. Kent lit it, took a deep breath, and spat out his lungs as the smoke and nicotine spread through his body, to the mocking laughter of a few.

"What a piece of shit! " he let go with a look of disgust before pulling it out, inhaling without swallowing the smoke this time.

Those cigarettes were strong. He could feel the nicotine acting on his body. Now that he had inhaled it all the way in, the cigarette was not going to go out, it would burn itself out.

"Pull over to the sides. "

He ripped off the filter and placed the cigarette at the edge of his device, so that when the cigarette was consumed, the still lit ashes would literally set it on fire.

He ran into the hallway for cover. Then they all waited. A moment. It wasn't as fast as in the movies, obviously. Then the detonation happened, more than two minutes later. Maybe five. But it came true. The blast was not loud, but loud enough for the noise to hit them hard.

They waited for the smoke to dissipate before going into the corridor. With the thick smoke and dust, their little flashlights didn't shine more than a meter away. It was a real pea mashed potato. Isles led the group, followed by Kent and Palmer.

Isles checked immediately. He didn't even have to force it. Deformed, the hatch immediately gave way. Fresh air filled their lungs. Cheers filled the atmosphere. They all came out in a row.

"Well done, Man of Steel! "

"You're a hero, man. "

"Honestly, respect. "

"If you're ever in Newark, come see me at the military base! "

Every time a soldier would come out, he'd congratulate him in passing. Kent couldn't help smiling. It really made him happy, and he was even happier to be out.

"You behaved in an exemplary and truly heroic manner, Kent. I'll talk about that in my report."

He gave Palmer a grateful look.

"Thank you, Captain. "

Palmer winked at him. Then silence fell as the first glances fell on Charles and Private Welles. Welles had suffered some damage from Kent's explosives. But what had killed them were the bullets. Two in their vests, one in the head. They had both been shot in the back.

"Only one shooter", Hewlett concluded after examining them.

"We'll see what ballistics says," Boone replied. "We'll take them away. Let's get out of here. "

And no one protested. The Marines carried their missing comrade, realizing only now that he was dead. The CIA agents were helped for their colleague.

Kent followed them out, joining their vehicle with Allen and Queen. Jordan and Palmer were further back.

"Buddy, I owe you more than a drink!" Barry let go and patted him on the shoulder.

"I'll give you my address. When we're all in the country, we're going to have a mega party, guys!"

Kent dreamed of this barbecue.

"We'll invite Wayne too!" Barry added with a big smile.

Queen didn't see the wink Allen gave Kent. He rushed to the Humvee and threw his Barrett in the back.

"Of course he'll be invited," Queen replied, opening the car door. "I'm not-"

Kent didn't see what happened. He felt projected. When his heavy body hit the ground, he was lucid for a moment. It was the Blast. The blast effect caused by an explosion. Then everything went dark.


	26. Week X

# Week X

* * *

_**Day X** _

The sound. The first thing his brain integrated was sound. That deafening sensation, that oppressive buzzing, those machine beeps. It was hard for him to open his eyes. It was really hard for him to flutter his eyelids and his throat was so sore that it hurt.

"Sergeant Kent? "

The voice of someone he didn't know. He forced himself to open his eyes. The light blinded him and he realized that it was the light from a lamp. He growled and it hurt him.

"Welcome back, Sergeant! You are at the Fort Riley Military Hospital. "

Clark gathered up his brain cells... Fort Riley. His military base in Kansas. He was home. The medic cleared out and he could see his hospital room.

"What... what happened... "

His throat really hurt. The nurse straightened him up and gave him water through a straw. Breathing in hurt, but the cold water made him feel better. He knew what it was all about. He had already experienced this situation when he had been to Samarra.

"The doctor is on his way. He will explain. "

The nurse put his glass next to him and went out. Clark wanted to protest, but he didn't have the strength to do so. His body was heavy, he could barely raise his arms. He made a superhuman effort to raise his arm to his face.

Light beard growth. Mass of hair. The feeling of his brown curls was strange, he hadn't had them that long in years. So he hadn't been in Iraq for a while. A long, long time. He had been in a coma. He couldn't see any other explanation. But he couldn't remember what had happened.

He couldn't put his ideas back in place. He saw Hal, Barry, Ollie, Ray, ... Bruce again. He knew he hadn't seen Bruce for even longer. He had to collect his thoughts to find his last memories. His body was heavy and he was really tired. He forced himself to stay awake and wait for the doctor to come.

"Hello Sergeant Kent! "

The doctor approached him. Kent paid no attention to his face. All he was interested in was the label on his gown. Orthopedic surgeon. It was bad.

"What's wrong with me? " he asked with difficulty.

The surgeon brought him his drink again. Clark tried to retrieve it and realized that the glass was quite heavy. He had lost strength.

"You were the victim of an explosion. You were hit hard by the blast. Your condition was very serious, you were very lucky. There was little hope for you to wake up. "

Clark suddenly had all his memories at once. Like a flash. The storming of the Kasbah, the time bomb in the basement, the explosion. The Humvee. It had to be the Humvee. Queen. Ollie was even closer to the vehicle than he was.

"My comrades? "

The doctor made a grimace.

"I don't know, I'm sorry. They had to be taken to another base. "

It was likely. Clark had to be transferred several times before landing here. He was going to have to wait.

"What were the after-effects? "

He was straightforward, his throat didn't allow him to do any more. The doctor tried to remain neutral.

"Well, you don't seem to have any brain damage, but... your eardrums have been greatly compromised. You will have to be careful in the future. The shrapnel that you received has greatly damaged some of your organs. Your spleen has been removed, but you can live without it. You had to have a piece of your intestine removed and a piece of your right kidney removed. Hmm... Your lungs are congested from inactivity, but with rehab it will come back. So much for the systemic plan... As for the rest... "

Clark held his breath. Literally.

"Your right leg was badly damaged from a splinter. The doctors on site did what they could, but... the infection was spreading. They had to amputate your leg down to the second third of your thigh. I'm very sorry for the loss of your leg. "

Clark looked down on his legs. His body was so weak that he couldn't feel his lower limbs except for a lot of numbness. But indeed, on the right side, the sheets were sagging more. He took the news. He was crippled. One leg down.

"Anything else? "

His voice was stuck in his throat and it wasn't due to the pain. The doctor shook his head.

"No. We'll see then at the rehabilitation level after we've done some functional check-ups. "

Clark burst out laughing. It was a nervous laugh, totally nervous. The doctor let him laugh, surprised by his reaction. Clark, on the other hand, felt like a miracle worker once again. He had always predicted an end like a bomb-disposer; a pink mist in a cloud of dust. He had managed to escape it. It had cost him a leg and a few organs, but he could live. And his three-piece ward had nothing. If he didn't have continence problems, he could resume a life without too much difficulty.

"So I was saying... we'll give you a neuro and functional check-up within a week. I'll come back for the functional and we'll see if we can start a rehabilitation program. It's important to get back on track as soon as possible. "

The doctor continued to explain the care process, but Clark was listening with a distracted ear. He was looking at his room, the flowers that were laid, the few things that were present that made the room warmer. The doctor hadn't told him how long he'd been there.

"What day is it? "

"May 27th. You've been in a coma for almost two months. You have had multiple edemas that have plunged you into a coma and... well, the neurosurgeon will explain it better than I can. He will come by later today or tomorrow. "

Clark nodded his head. The doctor's pager rang.

"I have to go now, Sergeant Major. I'll see you later in the week. "

"Thank you, Doctor. "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark had tried to check up on himself. It was a strange feeling, not feeling his leg or his weight. Aside from the weakness of his muscles, the discomfort of breathing and swallowing, and the fatigue of his body, he was fine. He just needed to rest and get back on his feet. Well, sort of. After that, he could find out about his classmates. And he could look for Bruce. But first, he needed to rest. And he was pretty tired.

* * *

_**May 29th, 2010** _

He was slowly but surely recovering from his coma. Clark had been asleep for quite some time since waking up and although he was still feeling tired, he was working hard to regain as much independence as possible. He had been told that his catheter could be removed and that a chair would be made available so he could go to the bathroom alone. The opposite was humiliating and that morning he had just discovered what it was like to be stripped of his modesty. He had been showered and not being able to do it himself was more than demeaning.

He had had help with dressing and that too was quite humiliating. Clark was in a hurry to regain his independence. The neurosurgeon had come by in the morning to check his cognitive and executive functions and according to him, there didn't seem to be any problems. Clark was relieved.

There was a knock on the door. The familiar face that showed up made Clark smile.

"Hi Mom. "

His mother dropped the huge duffel bag she had and hugged him. Clark gave her his hug back, happy to see a friendly face again. His mother arrived like a cool breeze in a toxic and oppressive environment.

"Honey. I'm so relieved you're awake. "

She spoke with great emotion in her voice. No doubt she had been very worried.

"I'm fine. I am here now. "

He hugged her as hard as his strength would allow. Then he let her go so she could wipe away her tears. Her mother, as sweet as she was, was a very strong character. She was dignified and resilient.

"I brought you some clothes and some things. The doctor gave me permission. "

Clark was more than pleased. He hated hospital clothes, where half the patients were walking around with their butts out in the open.

"Great. That'll be a change for me! I'll tackle it as soon as I'm free of all these... pipes. "

He was being infused everywhere. Martha came and sat down beside his bed.

"You had a lot of visitors while you were in a coma. I didn't know any of them, they were all military! "

Clark let out a little laugh and scratched his neck, embarrassed.

"I'm military, Mom. And we're on a base. "

Martha made a grimace.

"I know, but still. I thought you might have made some civilian friends on your leave. "

By that, Clark knew she meant a girlfriend. He winked at her.

"I'm well surrounded. Don't worry. "

His mother smiled back at him.

"Here, I put everything they brought you in this drawer that wasn't perishable. I'll let you take a look, I'll go get some coffee. Would you like one? "

Clark looked up. The coffee at the hospital must have been infamous, but surely better than in Iraq.

"Please," he answered, nodding his head.

Martha then left the room. Clark took the opportunity to pull the small chest of drawers on wheels and reach the drawer.

Standing up, he grabbed the entire drawer and looked inside. He spotted developed photos, small music cassettes, cards. Pete had thought of him with the music from Kansas, Diana had sent him some pictures with the guys and the others had thought of him too. And among all this, underneath, there was an envelope. Heavy. Clark opened it carefully. A chain fell off, followed by two plates. « Clark, J. Kent. »

He felt his heart racing as the heat filled his face. Probably turned peony red, Clark looked at his nameplates, the same plates he had left for Bruce. Bruce. He squeezed them in his hand, the plates becoming the most precious thing in the world. Bruce had come. He had given him back his tags.

Clark looked inside the envelope and took out a small piece of paper folded in four. Coordinates. Just coordinates, and the letter "B" as a signature. Clark's smile was radiant. Bruce had found him. He had come. And this, what he was holding in his hands, was a promise. They would meet again at these coordinates.

There was no date or time, but he had no doubt that Bruce would find a way to get in touch with him. Bruce was still on duty and so was Clark. They would still have to wait for one of them to become a civilian again. Something that would come true during his rehabilitation.

Clark put his plates around his neck and would not let go of them until he saw Bruce again. And he would go to see him when he was independent and if his rehabilitation allowed it, when he could walk again. Not before then. It would take time, and he knew that Bruce was giving him that time. He had a strong belief in that. Bruce hadn't let him down. He was there, always there.

Clark floated on his little cloud for the rest of the day. He didn't tell his mother the source of his happiness and she didn't ask him about it either. Clark was even more motivated and there was no way he would waste any more time: death had almost separated him from the life he dreamed of having by Bruce's side. Now that he had another chance, he would do anything to reach his goal.

* * *

_**June 1st, 2010** _

He had missed the ringing around his neck. Clark had felt like he'd been separated from his plates for ages. These thoughts helped him not to get angry while he was trying to put his shorts on.

"Don't you want me to help you? "

Clark raised his hand to stop his mother in her tracks.

"No. I have to learn how to do this on my own. "

He balanced himself precariously on his able-bodied leg. His muscles were no longer used to supporting his weight and his center of gravity had completely changed. Clark almost collapsed and had the reflex to fall back into his wheelchair.

"Clark! "

"I'm going to make it! I'm a soldier, I can handle it! "

He had responded angrily. He swallowed his saliva as his mother backed away.

"Sorry. "

He thought of a method, then lifted his pelvis, leaning on his left leg. It made his abs and thigh muscles scream, but he managed to pull his shorts up to his buttocks and zipper up his fly. His mother answered him in a firm tone.

"Even if you finally make it, you have the right to ask for help. Soldier or not. "

He nodded his head.

"I know. "

Clark took off the rest of his patient's clothes.

"And you won't be a soldier anymore. "

"I'll always be a soldier. Civilian life or not. "

Martha gave him a look. He knew that to confront her with his scars was to confront her with what he had experienced in the field. For a mother, it was a really difficult vision. They hadn't talked about the scar on his head. Clark knew that his mother had seen it. But she hadn't brought it up, and he wouldn't do it. He put on his T-shirt and said:

"I wasn't planning on taking over the OpEx anyway. "

His mother went to sit down and Clark rolled in his chair to her.

"You already know what you want to do ?" she asked in a voice that became soft again.

Clark took her hand to reassure her.

"I don't know, Mom. Maybe I'll go back to Letters. I'm going to take some time for myself first."

His mother stroked his cheek and smiled.

"You're right. When do you start intensive rehabilitation? "

Clark glanced at his stump, barely visible under his shorts.

"Next week. I'll have to build up some muscle first before I can test my gait. If I feel pain, I won't be able to try a prosthesis. Well, that's for later. "

Martha nodded. She was about to add something when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in. "

Clark turned to the door to see two soldiers disembark. High-ranking officers. He stood at attention.

"General. Colonel. "

The general answered him in salutation:

"At ease, Sergeant Major. Madam. Sorry to disturb you. Do you have a moment to grant us in private? "

Clark glanced interrogatingly at his mother who nodded her head and walked out. Clark didn't expect them to arrive so quickly. But he knew part of the reason they were there. It was always the same.

"How are you, Sergeant?" asked the general.

Clark shrugged.

"I'm coping with it, Sir. "

The other two soldiers replied with a pained grimace. The general cleared his throat before resuming.

"Your exploits, Sergeant, have gone to the top and impressed many people. We have come, on behalf of the United States of America, to thank you for your service. You will be entitled to stay at the base until your recovery. After that, you will be free to return to civilian life. Of course, you will be paid compensation by the State for damages. An external psychological support service is offered to you. "

Clark listened to the sequel with only one distracted ear. He knew the speech well. We told them that before every departure. He had the courtesy to let them finish it and also because officially he was still in the army for a few months.

"Thank you," he said when the general had finished.

The general stepped forward and asked permission to sit on his bed. Clark nodded his head. They had something more to ask him. A favor. He could read it in their gestures and on their faces. He had seen this before. He spoke first.

"Do you know what happened? Do you know if my comrades are all right? I would like to know."

The two officers exchanged glances. The colonel spoke.

"Your group was attacked. Um... your comrade, Private Queen, died instantly. Private Allen was seriously wounded and is being taken care of at Fort Carson Base. The others are still in Iraq. They are well. "

Clark took the shock. Covering his mouth, he integrated the information. Ollie. He remembered seeing Ollie at the humvee. If the humvee had been booby-trapped, he couldn't have survived the explosion. It had been too close.

"It was the Dentist ?" he asked in a harsh tone.

The general replied.

"We can't give you the details of the investigation. "

Clark clenched his fists.

"I've tracked this guy, I've saved guys from his bombs many times. I think I can at least get that answer, can't I? "

If they didn't give it to him, Clark was ready to fight back. Graduated or not. Going to court martial didn't scare him. No one would hold him in contempt in his situation. His determination must have been written on his face as the General replied:

"The investigators indeed assume it was him. "

Clark shook hands on his armrests. He had hatred. A deep hatred. That bastard was responsible for the deaths of too many people, of Ollie, and he had taken part of his life from him. That fucking asshole. The General resumed.

"Look, you may not know this, but our President has made a decision to withdraw the troops from Iraq. This will be done gradually, but there is a lot to be done in Afghanistan. We are short of men and to motivate recruitment, we think it would be advantageous to be well seen. "

Anger made his ears buzz. He lowered his head to refrain from hitting. He had to remain calm.

"You are among the best candidates to receive a medal. The Medal of Honor. We are organizing a presentation to the press in a month's time. The President will present you with the medal himself. It is a great honor. "

If he had the medal on hand, Clark could have imagined that he would force it down his throat.

"As you know, it's for anti-terrorism. It's to neutralize guys like this Dentist. "

Clark closed his eyes for a moment. He was clearly not the kind of military man who would go along with those arguments. He was quite the opposite.

"You may not be able to go back into the field, but you can still serve your country. "

Clark stared into the general's eyes full of hatred.

"What do you want from me? "

The Colonel answered:

"Accept this medal presentation in public. "

Clark never took his eyes off the General. It was out of the question that it should be used as propaganda for a new war. He had had his fill. If he refused, he would alienate the whole army. On a military base, it was risky. He had to find a subtle way to refuse. It wasn't hard to find. He backed into his chair, reaching out his hand to them. The general squeezed it with a big laugh as Clark said with a smile:

"I'd love to be a part of it. On top of that, there aren't enough gay medal-winning soldiers. "

His fake smile became a smile of jubilation as the two faces fell apart in front of him. The general let go of his hand as if he had just been burned. He displayed a contrite smile as he stood up, mimed by the colonel.

"Well, thank you, Sergeant. We'll... see what we can do and we'll get back to you. The surrender will take place in Washington, so we may save you the trip. We wish you a good recovery. "

They greeted him as they opened the door. Clark did the same, still bubbling with anger. When the door closed, he angrily threw the pitcher of water on his table and it crashed against the wall. Martha arrived at that moment to see the damage.

"Sorry, I need to be alone. "

Understandingly, her mother left. Clark was left alone, giving free rein to his rage. He shattered everything he had at hand, even more enraged that he was limited by the damage he could cause from his wheelchair. Ollie was dead and the army was using the fallen soldiers for recruitment. This world was making him nauseous.


	27. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of Blast. The next one will be the epilogue.

# September

* * *

**_September 3rd, 2010_ **

The months of rehabilitation had been hard. Harder than this Clark had imagined. Being disabled, dependent on others, was the worst lesson in humility one could receive. He had been through a lot. He could no longer count the number of falls he had had, the number of sleepless nights he had spent because of his muscular and phantom pains, the number of trophic, cutaneous, pain, vascular and other tests to see if he could try on prostheses. And he didn't count the number of failures either. His hell had taken on a completely different face.

But he had made it. He overcame all that, partly thanks to his mother's support. Without her, he probably would have give up more than once. Because it was hard to live with the way other people looked at him. It was hard to accept himself with this new body. Clark had been ashamed for a while of his scars and with the new marks and his stump, it was harder. He was still having a hard time accepting himself, but he was better at hiding it.

For a while he had cursed Bruce for a long time. He cursed him for not coming, for not trying to reach him. He had hatred for him, hatred for the whole world. The kind of hate that he couldn't contain but that had been the driving force behind his rehabilitation. And then, as the weeks went by, thinking, again and again, it was impossible for him to blame Bruce. Because he probably had a lot of other things to do besides coming.

Besides, Bruce kept an eye on him. Clark would see himself again, while he was being fitted with his latest prosthesis. A state-of-the-art, luxury prosthesis. « An anonymous donor », that's what we told all the soldiers at the rehabilitation center. Clark was convinced that the anonymous donor had the initials « B.W. ». He was absolutely certain of this when he investigated the design of the prosthesis. Wayne Enterprises had an incredible number of subsidiaries.

Clark was biding his time, waiting for the day when he would see Bruce again. He wanted to find out why Bruce was so secretive now that Clark had returned to civilian life. He thought Bruce didn't want their relationship to be known as long as they were both military, but now... As he recalls it, Bruce was finishing his contract around June. Had he signed another contract behind it? Did he stay in the US army?

If Bruce had made that choice, Clark would have been stuck. He wasn't planning on having a long-distance relationship with the fear in his gut of losing him. He couldn't handle it. He hoped... he really hoped Bruce hadn't gone back into the field.

Clark would have wanted to call him. The number for Wayne Enterprises headquarters was found on the Internet. But once he ran into one of his secretaries, what could he say? That he was a former colleague looking to reconnect? He would have been taken for a nutcase or he would have been sent to the dogs. Saying that he was his lover in Iraq? He risked ruining Bruce's entire public image and they never put words to what they were going through.

"Honey? Here we are. "

He turned his attention to the present moment. The farm. His home. Clark opened the car door and walked out, leaning against the bodywork, retrieving his crutch. He still had a long way to go in rehabilitation before he could walk without limping, no longer tired from long distances. He had in mind that when he could walk better, he might try to run. Maybe he would...

He retrieved one of the bags with his belongings and tipped it over his shoulder before walking home. He hadn't been home for ages. After he walked through the door, Clark felt free. For the first time in a long time, he felt free to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. No job, no service, no responsibilities. He was then attacked by Shelby, his mother's dog, who jumped on him, very happy to see him.

"Take it easy, buddy. I'm glad to see you too! "

He petted the border collie before Martha took him away to let him pass. He slowly went up to his room and dropped his bag. His bed. His roof.

"Shall I make you some coffee? "

Clark closed his eyelids. Good coffee. He was finally going to be able to taste good coffee again.

"With pleasure! "

He went to his window and watched the cornfields stretch as far as the eye could see. This was Kansas. The fields, a little music in the background, and the smell of coffee brewing. He took a deep breath. Clark could start a new life. Walking and running would come over the months and, in itself, he felt quite capable of seeing Bruce again. He didn't want him to see him as weak.

His gaze turned again to his room and the cardboard boxes on his desk. His things from Iraq. His mother had picked them up and brought them straight back here. Clark didn't want to see them again. Now that time had passed, the pain of the memory was bearable. He took out his uniforms and his things. A few photos, tapes, some trinkets bought on the market. He regretted a little his Koran, which had to jump with him.

His gaze fell on the mittens. The makeshift mittens that Bruce had made for him by sacrificing his own under-gloves. Clark squeezed them in his hand. The one day he hadn't worn them, something had happened to him. Now it would be out of the question for him to part with them. He would make sure he always had them on hand. That and...a few things. Old military habit.

He went downstairs to meet Martha and get their coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table, Clark enjoyed the silence for the first time in a long time. No hospital beeps. No alarm bells. No gunshots, no bombs. Complete calm. After a few minutes, Clark thought it was even too quiet. He wasn't used to it anymore.

"You're not staying, are you? "

Clark smiled at his mother.

"It's too quiet here. I have to get on with my life, Mom. "

His mother shook her head and smiled.

"You never knew how to stay put. "

He laughed slightly. It was true, as far as he could remember. He had always loved action and adventure.

"What are you going to do now? "

Clark swirled his spoon inside her cup.

"There's someone I have to go see in New York. Then I'll see what I can do. "

Martha raised an eyebrow.

"New York? What are you going to do there? "

Clark thought back to the contact information Bruce had left him a few months earlier. It was right in the center of one of the world's most famous parks.

"I'm going to visit Central Park. "

His mother's mischievous smile made him look up at the sky.

"Someone must be worth it to get you across half the country! "

Martha got up to put her cup in the sink. Clark finished his, hiding his smile: Bruce was definitely worth it.

* * *

_**September 13th, 2010** _

The air was fresh, but it was still warm. Clark had spent his entire summer in Kansas, under the air conditioning at the rehab center. When he felt that light breeze, he still found it hard to get used to it, the habit of the desert climate still fresh in his mind. But he didn't miss Iraq. Not in the least. He was now far from the horrors of war, far from this risky life. Clark wanted to be able to enjoy what he had left.

He stopped against the railing of the Bow Bridge, gazing at the beauty of the park in the sunlight. The crowd was small, but at this time of day, it was no surprise. It was almost 3:30 p.m. and the children were still in school. The calm was pleasant. In this kind of situation, Clark appreciated it. It was really a great view, and a beautiful place.

But why the hell did Bruce give him those exact coordinates?! Should he have called him first? Okay, the place was really nice for a date, but... Clark felt like an ass. Bruce wasn't all-knowing. He was really, _really_ dumb for showing up at the coordinates without telling him first. He should have searched the internet for his number or rather his company number. Now he was there, without being able to reach him.

He hit the railing, annoyed by his lack of judgment. What a fucking idiot. Well, at least it had been a nice walk, he had seen the landscape. He looked one last time at the park. It was true that Central Park was beautiful. It was a pure marvel, unlike the huge buildings in Manhattan.

Clark's heart missed a beat as he walked around the viewpoint. He had turned on the wrong side of the bridge. On the other side, he couldn't miss it. Impossible. Clark laughed, to himself, thinking that Bruce was almost showing him who had the biggest one. That was clearly bragging.

In the distance, he could clearly see a huge glass building with a big "W" at the top. He had seen that same symbol while researching Bruce. It was the W in the Wayne Enterprises logo. What a big boaster. With a huge smile on his face, Clark left Central Park for his new destination.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Okay. So if Bruce was a huge blowhard, Clark was the biggest wimp. Standing in front of the Wayne Enterprises building, he had been unable to cross the threshold to enter this luxurious, splendid hall made for giants.

Clark took a look at his clothes. His old leather jacket, red plaid shirt and faded jeans that clumsily hid his prosthesis reminded him how out of touch he was with his world. He hadn't really had time to shop lately and hadn't really thought about it when he went to see Bruce.

Because of this, he was even more scared to see him. Their civilian lives were so different. He had stage fright. He was afraid to see Bruce, that he was not happy to see him, that he was weak, or that he ignored him.

Shaking his head, he chased away all those negative thoughts. He had to remember what he wanted: a chance with Bruce. To have a life together. Clark wanted to believe it, he wanted to see him again and he had to take a chance. Shit, he was military! Well, former military and former deminer. It wasn't Bruce who was going to intimidate him so much!

Clark squinted as he walked towards the door. Now that he thought about it, he wondered if it wasn't intimidation, all this history, this mystery. It would be nice if Bruce would do this kind of thing, using it as a test. He knew he was manipulative. That wouldn't be what would make him back down. Not anymore it wouldn't.

He entered the hall and immediately felt like an insect among giants. He was clearly out of place. The huge hall looked out onto dozens of electronically-opening porticoes, their appearance blending beautifully with the building's sober and refined colors. The ceiling was almost 4 meters high and there was not a sound except the footsteps of the guards and the murmurs of the secretaries.

"Can I help you, sir? "

Clark turned to the security guard. Three-piece suit, impeccably ironed shirt, closely shaved, and a perfect fit. Even he had better class than he did.

"Uh, I'll go to the front desk, thank you. "

Clark went there, clapping a little more with his prosthesis. With that limp, his cane and his clothes, it was impossible to go unnoticed. The secretaries at the reception desk had really noticed him.

"Hello Sir, can we help you? "

The pretty brunette in front of him was very beautiful. Her hair and make-up were perfect. All this perfection in this building was very annoying to him. He opened his mouth, without finding what to ask. The secretaries looked at each other before looking up at the security guard. Clark's reflexes took over:

"I'd like to see Bruce Wayne. "

As the ladies looked at him with amused expressions, Clark knew that he had made a complete ass of himself. Many requests had to be made if Bruce was so important. And he was. He hastened to add :

"I'm Clark Kent. I think... I think he's expecting me. "

He bit his lip when he was not at all sure what he had just said. The secretaries were surprisingly silent.

"Kent, you say? _The_ Clark Kent?! "

He turned to the African-American secretary who had just spoken to him. He nodded his head.

"That's it. We served together in Iraq. "

To the amazement of the ladies, Clark wondered if he hadn't made a big mistake. Bruce was the mysterious and paranoid type. Were his employees aware of his military activities?

"I'll call Barbara," the brunette told her colleagues.

The African-American and the blonde with European airs nodded. The African-American woman leaned over to him.

"My colleague is trying to reach his personal secretary. "

Clark nodded his head in turn.

"Thank you. "

"May we offer you a seat, Mr. Kent? Or some coffee? "

In front of the friendly blonde, Clark raised an eyebrow, surprised by the change in behavior of all of them.

"No thanks, I'm fine. You... you've heard of me? "

The African-American woman shook her head.

"Not really. But about 3 or 4 months ago, Mr. Wayne left us a personal note: to let him know immediately if someone named Clark Kent tried to contact him. "

Clark's heart missed a beat and he turned his head away, too happy to hear that. "He said, "Notify immediately. Bruce put him first, even his job? He felt himself blushing, the heat invading his face. He cleared his throat, trying to contain himself.

"Not to be indiscreet, Mr. Kent, but... How was he? On the forehead? " asked the blonde.

Kent smiled.

"Authoritative. Closed. Cold. He's the most respectable man I've ever met. "

It was impossible for him to contain the pride in his smile. He was proud, to have known Bruce personally, he was even prouder to be in his inner circle and most of all, he was proud to have shared such intimate moments with him. Proud, or possessive.

"He's not that different from now," the African-American commented, a little disappointed.

It didn't take away Clark's smile in the least.

"Mr. Wayne is held in reunions, but Miss Gordon, his secretary, will come down to see you. "

Clark raised an eyebrow. He didn't want to disturb everyone.

"I couldn't go up to see her ?" he asked.

The brunette shook her head negatively.

"She wanted to come and meet you. "

Moments later, a beautiful red-headed woman with glasses passed the gates to come to them. Clark knew immediately that she was Bruce's secretary. He knew it by crossing her fierce and determined look. Certainly a woman of character, who could probably stand up to her boss without batting an eyelid. She smiled a beautiful smile as she reached out her hand in front of her.

"Mr. Kent, I am truly delighted to finally meet you. "

Clark shook her hand, flattered. She had a very sweet and gentle voice.

"Thank you. "

Barbara Gordon continued:

"Mr. Wayne is absent, but he has been informed of your visit. He has instructed me to convey this information to you personally. Meet him at this address tomorrow evening at 8:00 p.m. The annotated number is his personal number. Please do not give it to anyone and destroy it immediately after use. "

The cold and authoritative voice she had just used disturbed him. Clark nodded, suddenly intimidated in front of her.

"Well. Thank you. "

The redhead's smile returned to her face and she began again in a soft voice:

"I wish you a good day then. See you soon, Mr. Kent. "

She shook his hand again while he was still disturbed.

"Goodbye," he said, long after she had left.

The woman had been convinced that she would see him again. Clark, on the other hand, was hoping it would be a long time from now.

* * *

_**September 14th, 2010** _

He was even more tense than if he was facing a bomb. He was a few meters from the meeting place. His heart was beating so fast, he couldn't wait to see him, and yet he was so stressed that he looked like a 16-year-old boy on his first date. Clark readjusted his checked shirt collar as he turned down the street.

A dead end. The alley was dark and Clark stopped, hesitant to engage. That was before he saw a cigarette smoke rising in the air and could make out the silhouette in the darkness. He approached, wanting to be sure of what he was looking at. In a pearl grey three-piece suit, Bruce was waiting for him, throwing his cigarette as soon as he saw him. He stepped forward to find himself in a better light.

Clark stopped a few steps away from him, breathless. Bruce was beautiful to fall. His straight, black hair was a little longer and perfectly combed, he had a close shave and his clear look matched the tones of his outfit. The intense look in his eyes unsettled him and Clark really realized that Bruce was there, in front of him, in the flesh. Bruce. He was seized by emotion at the throat. Suddenly it was as if he had no filter left. He opened his mouth, his voice broken by his feelings:

"Hi. "

Bruce approached.

"Hi. "

Clark felt a tear running down his cheeks. He couldn't tell if it was joy or something else. He wiped it off the back of his sleeve with a smile.

"I thought I was going to lose you. "

He saw Bruce take a step forward. Clark let go of his cane and stepped towards him. They hugged each other as if their lives depended on it.

"I'm here because of you. "

Clark took a deep breath down his neck, filling up with Bruce's scent, mixed with the smell of tobacco and men's perfume. He had missed that smell and warmth. He closed his eyes to keep his tears from falling as Bruce's hands tightened on his neck and jacket.

They heard voices shouting and Bruce broke away, picking up his cane from the ground to give it to him.

"Let's go inside. "

Clark frowned, picked up his cane as Bruce knocked on the emergency door. It opened almost immediately.

"Thanks Jayne. "

Bruce entered and Clark followed him. He was surprised to land in a restaurant kitchen, amidst all the noise and panic. He followed Bruce, trying to move around without bothering the cooks too much. From their technique and what they were preparing, they seemed to be very good at what they were doing.

Bruce walked through the back door of the restaurant and they both landed in a bar. When the door closed, the atmosphere was calm, the lights were dimmed and the soft music created a warm atmosphere. Clark had just landed in a rather luxurious, 70's atmosphere and almost empty. The barman was in the company of a well-dressed young man and at the tables there must have been less than ten people.

The billionaire walked past the bartender, waved his hand and sat down at the back of a secluded table against the wall. Clark recognized the strategic location. From there, Bruce had an eye on the entrances and exits of the place and on everyone else. He looked up at the sky, with difficulty following him between the tables.

Clark sat down in front of Bruce, amused and fascinated by the place.

"A speakeasy? Really? I didn't know it still existed. "

Bruce stretched out a slight grin.

"They're only known by word of mouth. Here, it's peculiar. I helped Jayne reopen the place. While the restaurant is open to the public, the bar here is only on the recommendation of members. "

Clark raised an eyebrow.

"Like some kind of club? This is your establishment? "

Bruce shook his head.

"No. The place is Jayne's. I don't appear on any official paperwork. "

Clark narrowed his eyes, pensive as the bartender arrived. They ordered drinks and he waited until he left to resume the conversation.

"That's the whole point, isn't it? That it doesn't have your name on it. "

Bruce just made his smile bigger. Clark shook his head. Bruce and his paranoia. Their drinks arrived. A beer and a glass of scotch. No need to tell who ordered what.

They remained silent for a moment after toasting. There was no tension between them in this silence, just a discovery of each other. Again. Clark detailed Bruce again. He was obsessed with his hair, his black hair that was long enough for him to slip his fingers through it and hold on to it.

He got out of his fantasies when Bruce broke eye contact to drink. Almost embarrassed, he ran a hand through his own hair. He had to break the silence now.

"What's happened since you've been repatriated? "

Bruce thought for a moment before answering.

"I recovered and went back to the field. "

The end. Clark backed away slightly from the cold intonation he had taken. There was something there. There was always something when Bruce was cold in front of him when it was just the two of them. No one could hear them. So he didn't want to talk about it. It hurt him. He tried to get past it.

"And... what do you do now? "

Bruce let out a sigh. He held his gaze:

"I'm running my company until Lucius gets his bearings. "

Lucius Fox. Clark had already heard of him. He nodded. There was again a time of silence, before Bruce spoke.

"How are you? "

His voice had become softer. Bruce cared. Not that he doubted it, but it pleased him to ask.

"I'm better now. I've been lucky. "

Clark made a grimace at the memory of what he had lost. And it wasn't just about his leg.

"I know it wasn't. I heard about Ollie. I couldn't make it to the funeral. "

The grief was clearly visible in his clear eyes.

"I would go see him at the same time as Barry, he's in rehab in the state next door. Or maybe I'll wait until Hal is available. He switched to the Air Force. "

Bruce agreed. He already knew that.

"I heard you got a medal. "

Clark remembered that day. We had come to visit him at the rehab center while he was in the middle of a session. The general came in, gave him a little speech, gave him a box with the medal of honor and he left. It took... 10 minutes? He laughed as he remembered how ridiculous the situation was.

"They asked me if I wanted to be rewarded by the President... for promoting the war in Afghanistan. Two days after I woke up. Rats. "

He still laughs shaking his head. Bruce frowned.

"What did you say to them? "

Clark smiled a big smile.

"I told them I was gay. "

Bruce looked at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. A frank, natural laugh that delighted Clark's ears.

"You finally got yourself in a box," he said.

The brunette kept a mischievous grin on his face.

"I was pretty angry. I just said that to piss them off. There's always been a lot of homophobia in the military, but this was clearly obvious. "

Good thing they were never caught in the act. Otherwise, the consequences would have been serious. Very serious.

There was a time of silence during which they ordered food. Clark recommended another beer and Bruce was content to stay on the water. They did not resume a real conversation until their food was brought in.

"What are your plans now ?" asked Clark.

Bruce waited until he had finished emptying his mouth to answer.

"When Lucius has completely taken over, I'll go to Quantico. I'll take the training to be a an FBI agent. "

Clark almost choked.

"The FBI?! "

He saw anger pass into Bruce's eyes. A metallic gray he knew well.

"I've got some things to work out, and the FBI will give me access to them. "

Clark's back in his chair, seriously.

"What kind of things? "

"Nothing that's any of your business. "

It was like taking a hit. Clark took it, sensing a hint of bitterness.

"To join the FBI, it must be a hell of a thing. I wish you a lot of fun at Quantico. "

He wasn't hungry all of a sudden. Bruce realized that he had upset him because he changed his tone:

"I will only be at Quantico for a few months, maybe a year. Then... I'll come back here. This is my town. "

Okay, Clark totally caught the bug. He put his cutlery down and drank several sips of his beer.

"I see you thought of everything. I'm happy for you. "

He picked up his beer in an effort to get it down quickly.

"I've offended you. "

Clark glanced at him blackly as he replied sarcastically:

"Congratulations, you've just been promoted to World's Best Detective! "

"Clark. "

The man who was questioned put down his empty beer as Bruce leaned forward. Suddenly the air on his face was nervous.

"I have my reasons for acting like this. I can't drag you into this kind of life. "

Clark stood up.

"The matter is settled. I came here to find out where we both stand, but it looks like you've made up your mind. "

He grabbed his coat and his cane.

"Clark wait ! "

He saw Bruce start the gesture to catch up with him. Clark stared at him, stopping him in his tracks. He knew he could be very threatening. It was apparently very visible in his eyes. When Bruce pulled his arm out, he calmed down quite quickly.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Bruce. I wish you... a good life. "

He turned around and rushed to pay at the counter. He really didn't look like an idiot trying to run away from an able-bodied man when he was still limping a lot.

"Wait! "

Clark paid in cash, not surprised by the discount he'd just been given.

"You don't understand. "

No, indeed, he didn't understand. What was the point of all this?! He walked towards the exit while all eyes were on them.

"You're right, I don't understand. I can't figure out if I counted for you or not. What's this dinner? A thank-you dinner? For saving your life? "

He took a break while he went back through the kitchen and went through the fire exit they had used to get in.

"I've been waiting for you, Bruce. At the rehab center. I thought you would have come to see me. But leaving my plates and numbers behind was probably for the best. You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble to do your little treasure hunt. "

Clark was heading down the street. Bruce walked in front of him to block his way.

"I misspoke and offended you. I'm sorry for that. "

Bruce was sincere, but Clark was a walking ball of anger.

"I think you made that clear. You don't want me in "this life" that you're leading. Let me pass. "

Bruce camped on his position.

"No. "

Clark straightened up to face him. Invalid or not, if he had to resort to violence, he would. His disability was preventing him from doing what he wanted, so blocking him was a bad idea.

"Get out of the way. "

Bruce, far from being impressed by the threat, took a step towards him. Their faces were close together.

"No. Not until I could explain. "

Clark ticked. It was rare for Bruce to give in so easily when he had been on the reservation just before.

"I'm listening. "

Bruce stepped back.

"Not here. Come with me. "

The former deminer hesitated. His reserve instinct was fighting his curiosity.

"Come," Bruce insisted. "I promise I'll explain. "

Clenching his jaw, Clark followed him.

* * *

_**September 15th, 2010** _

They both took a cab to where Bruce wanted to take him. Clark suspected that he had to take him to a safe place, maybe home. What could Bruce's apartment look like? He was so unattached to things in general, he wondered what the decor could look like.

Thinking, he looked out the window all the way. His anger had subsided, but he was still a little hurt by Bruce's words. He knew that the other one cared about him, but he also couldn't understand why he was rejecting him in this way. He was quite contradictory and he didn't really know what he was talking about.

They went down in front of a huge luxury hotel right in the middle of Times Square. Ah. Well, in the end he didn't even deserve to see where Bruce lived. Still bitter again, he followed the billionaire into the richly decorated lobby and they took a private elevator that Bruce activated with an electronic badge and an extra key. Wow. Security couldn't have been better. Then he pressed the top floor.

The cliché elevator music filled the silence between them. Nevertheless, Clark could see Bruce's stress as he clenched his fists, his face remaining neutral. He immediately thought back to Bruce's exact words. What did he mean by « that kind of life »?! He wasn't a drug baron, a mafia boss or a dealer!? What was he talking about?

The elevator arrived at its destination and the doors opened directly onto an apartment. Very luxurious. Clark walked forward, gazing at the huge living room that stretched out in front of them. He walked down one step to wander between the red and ivory sofas, the cushions, the island formed by the table and everything else. It was beautiful, cold and... impersonal.

To his left, the large, open kitchen was spacious and made it possible to cook without being cut off from the guests. On the right side of the apartment, he saw several doors.

"I own the entire top floor of this hotel. "

Clark turned to Bruce, stunned.

"You're seriously kidding me, aren't you? "

The area he had in front of him must have been larger than the first floor of his house. He walked towards the huge bay window.

"I'm one of the 20 richest people in the United States of America. "

The view was magnificent. He felt as if he was above the world. The people in the streets were so small that he couldn't tell their sex.

"Showman. "

Then he felt hands on his hips. He hadn't heard Bruce move, as usual. He turned his head towards him to catch his eye. So intense, so beautiful. Then he suddenly became aware of something as Bruce took his cane from his hand.

They were alone. Alone, cut off from the world, in civilian clothes. There was no longer any fear of being discovered, there was no risk of being surprised, seen, heard. What would happen in that apartment would stay there. They were free to do whatever they wanted. And this thought had also crossed Bruce's mind.

He kissed him. Bruce sprinkled his mouth with quick, pressing, eager kisses. Framing his face with his hands, he held his head firmly in place to kiss him, again and again. That mouth, those lips, that smell. He had missed it, missed it so much, almost felt the need to feel him against him, to touch him, to kiss him.

His hands slipped into Bruce's hair, so soft, it was a real pleasure to run his fingers through it. He loved his hair. Now his head, he forced Bruce to extend their kisses, to deepen them, their bodies moving closer together, their hands becoming more adventurous. Clark needed to feel Bruce's presence again, he needed him, his touch. That was a fact.

Bruce guided him as he continued to embrace him. Clark leaned on him to compensate for the lack of strength and balance he hadn't yet regained and followed his lips. Bruce knew the place well and guided him as he walked back. He only lifted his lips to turn around and open the door.

Clark didn't bother to find out what Bruce's bedroom looked like. All he cared about was taking off that suit jacket, undoing the buttons on his shirt and getting in touch with his skin. Bruce was aiming for the same goal, taking off his big jacket, shirt and T-shirt.

Carefully, Bruce helped Clark to sit on the bed and then to lie down. With more stability, Clark could now do whatever he wanted with Bruce's body just above him. He took a moment to realize what was happening. He was in a huge bed with the man he so desperately wanted to see in his life bent over his neck. Bruce was kissing him gently, leaning over him with his hand while the second one was tucked into his hair. His open shirt hung over his bare chest and the caress of the fabric increased his excitement. Bruce was sexy.

Clark hung on to the sides of the shirt to lower Bruce onto him. The burning of Bruce's skin on his made him growl with pleasure, just as their hard crotches rubbed against each other. He wanted to. He wanted to burn the steps, get undressed and get into action. But they weren't in a hurry.

Bruce again took his lips in a more than languid kiss. Clark took the opportunity to walk his hands all over the surface he could touch, from his hair to the bottom of his kidneys. He could feel under his fingers the relief of his scars, every hollow, every bump, every imperfection of his skin that made it so unique.

Clark closed his eyes as their lips fell away. Bruce couldn't resist his urge to wander his body with his lips and his tongue. Clark would suddenly die from the heat, even though he was shirtless. Bruce's presence and his touch animated a fire in him like he'd never known before. No one had ever done so much for him.

"Bruce... "

His hoarse voice made his throat and chest vibrate, making Bruce react as his teeth brushed against his skin. He refrained from doing more, Clark was aware of this. It made him happy. So happy that Bruce suppressed his cravings so he could enjoy them. He grabbed the back of his neck and stuck his hand in his hair, clutching it in his fist. Bruce growled as he walked down to the edge of his pants, forcing the other to let go.

"Kal. "

His entire body shivered as Bruce's lips were just above his fly button. Bruce straightened up just enough to stand on one arm and undo the zipper on his pants. Clark helped him remove the garment, forcing himself to contain his apprehension as he revealed his missing leg to Bruce. But Bruce was not stopped by his appearance. On the contrary, he studied his prosthesis for a few seconds before removing it, asking for permission to look at it.

Bruce was incredibly delicate, in absolutely every gesture and movement. The ball of apprehension in Clark's throat went away as Bruce passed his hands over his thighs, his mouth dangerously close to his underwear.

He grabbed the collar of Bruce's shirt and pulled it up towards him, straightening up to take his shirt off and kissing him. This time their kisses became hungrier, deeper again. They couldn't hold each other anymore. The shirt flew and very quickly the pants too. Clark didn't wait any longer to release his erection and Bruce didn't fail to follow him.

They gazed at each other for a moment while they were completely naked. Clark looked at the new scars on Bruce's body and the different colors of his skin. And at the center of it all, it was impossible to miss his straight and wet erection. His was in the same condition. Their eyes met.

"Now," Clark ordered.

Bruce didn't answer him. Instead, he turned his back and walked out of the room and came back a few moments later with a tube, probably lubricant. He didn't dwell on that detail. Instead, he greeted Bruce and kissed him, again and again, their bodies glued together.

Then everything followed very quickly. Clark felt the cold, wet feeling of the lubricant and the unpleasant penetration of Bruce's fingers. They were both so impatient that they rushed to get ready, their breathing quickening to the rhythm of Clark's groans. Bruce was unable to hold himself back any longer.

Positioning himself at his entrance, he penetrated Clark as slowly as he could, grunting with impatience as he felt the muscles tighten on his limb. The other one let out a long sigh as he was overwhelmed with a lot of feeling. Clark was even warmer, his heart was beating even faster and his breathing was jerky. And all he could think about was moving again.

They moved fast, hard, clinging to each other. Bruce had his head stuck in Clark's neck, his teeth reminiscent of his skin as he skillfully moved his pelvis. The brunette clung to his back, digging his nails in as he was caught in a spiral of pleasure. Clark was so far away that he didn't flinch as Bruce noisily sucked his neck, but he grunted with pain and excitement as he felt the teeth dig into his flesh.

Bruce repositioned himself and grabbed Clark's able-bodied leg to make it easier for him to settle down. That was the end of the game for Clark, who, under the butor booze and waves of pleasure, enjoyed the game loudly without even being touched. Bruce followed him shortly afterwards, collapsing next to him when they were out of breath.

Clark floated on his cloud of pleasure for an indeterminate amount of time. He didn't care if he had to land. He was in no hurry. None of them were going anywhere and they had been able to enjoy what they wanted. They had been able to sleep together freely. The thought made him breathe a long sigh of contentment.

He was fine. So fine beside Bruce, in this bed with dark and soft sheets. He turned his head towards his former superior, wedging his head on a pillow as Bruce pulled up a sheet over them. Bruce was really handsome. His wild hair made him look more rebellious and wild, which stood out so well with his mercury look.

"I hope I wasn't too rough. "

Bruce's sentence took a while to work its way into Clark's brain. He massaged the bitten area, a slight pain indicating its location. Faced with Bruce's concern, Clark smiled tenderly.

"You were perfect. "

Bruce sketched a slight smile.

"You are too. "

Clark felt the red rising to his ears. Flattered and embarrassed, he leaned over to Bruce and kissed him passionately. Their languorous kiss was accompanied by caresses, quickly slowed down by Clark, whose reason was coming back at full gallop. He detached himself from Bruce to look him in the eyes.

"So... what kind of life do you lead? "

Bruce backed away slightly. His serious look naturally returned to his face. Seeing that Bruce was thinking about what he was going to say, Clark gave him some time. He got out of bed, ventured to the huge bathroom to clean himself up and go to the toilet and then slipped under the sheets again. Bruce took a deep breath.

"I screwed up. "

And that was it. Clark widened his eyes.

"It's the shortest, most useless explanation in the world. Can you elaborate? "

Bruce passed a hand over his face with a sigh. Something was bothering him. He didn't know how to approach things.

"What did you do, Bruce? "

He sighed again. Then he started.

"After I came home, I stayed in the hospital for a week to recover from my injuries. I was forced to stay at the base for three weeks. Three weeks of being laid off while you were all there. "

Clark could hear the frustration in Bruce's voice. He listened attentively as he picked it up.

"I kept my time with the management of the company and kept in touch with my contacts about your situation. Then I found out what had happened to you. Ollie, the team, you. It drove me crazy. I wanted to know more about what had happened, but I didn't have access to any mission reports. "

Bruce had no facial expression, but his eyes said it all. Clark could feel his frustration.

"I used my connections, my status. It took me days to get access to the information I was looking for. Knowing that it was the Dentist, it pissed me off. I wanted revenge. I owe you my life, Clark. I couldn't just do nothing. "

Bruce took a break and ran a hand through his hair.

"That's when I screwed up. I asked the CIA for help. A favor. I wanted to be part of the team that tracked down the Dentist. "

Clark suddenly straightened himself out. The information was too big.

"You _what_?! Wait, you got him?! "

Bruce raised his hand to stop him in his tracks and said:

"No. The CIA wanted me and still wants me in their ranks. I acted without thinking about the consequences. I wanted to find that asshole and get revenge. Before I left for the field, I stopped by to see you. Your state only made me feel more comfortable with my ideas of revenge. I followed the CIA into Iraq. They had managed to get his accomplices to give them his code name, Zod. We tracked him in Baghdad, then in Afghanistan and Yemen. We lost his trail there. The team was disbanded. The search stopped. "

Clark felt his anger mounting and made a superhuman effort not to get out of hand. He clenched his jaw, waiting for Bruce to resume. But he didn't. Clark swallowed his saliva before concluding.

"You are now indebted to the CIA for _nothing_. Jesus, Bruce! They've got you on a leash! The CIA is rotten to the core! To step into their house is to condemn yourself to be in their service! Damn it Bruce, you've been totally reckless! The Dentist or... Zod wasn't worth it ! "

Clark forced himself to calm down. He swallowed his saliva, clenched his teeth and forced himself to breath calmly. He looked into Bruce's eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that for me. "

Bruce didn't answer. He didn't even move an eyelash. Clark sighed, giving up all anger. He moved closer to Bruce and wedged his head against his chest.

"You don't want me in your life because you're afraid they'll use me to pressure you. "

Bruce's arm closed behind his back.

"I can't put anyone at risk like that. My life is already complicated with my public image and my status in society. I can't make others live that kind of life. "

Clark ran his hand over Bruce's muscular belly. He followed with his fingertips the two scars that were unknown to him and lingered on a third, larger, deeper one. That of the shrapnel. This wound where he had pressed his plates into his flesh.

"You're not military anymore, are you? Do you see me as weak? "

Clark felt Bruce's muscles contract imperceptibly in the face of the question.

"No, of course not! Clark you are the strongest person I know. "

He then cleared himself to face him, the most serious person in the world.

"So give me a chance. You can't make this decision to reject me to protect me. You _can't_! I've been through a lot, Bruce. Badly. If you care about me, you have to give me a chance. If you convince me otherwise, then I will leave and our paths will never cross again. "

Bruce straightened up when he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He sighed, took a moment to think, and then he said:

"If you want to come into my life, you'll have to make sacrifices. Many sacrifices. I could never give you the life you dream of. I could never offer you a _normal_ life, with a family, peace and quiet. "

Bruce took a short break, hiding his face for a few seconds.

"I had in mind to spend one last evening with you, you were right. But... I... "

Bruce did not finish his sentence. Clark knew what he had to say was too personal. He understood his need to preserve himself, to preserve his feelings. He knew how Bruce worked.

"Take some time to think about it, Clark. I'd like us to enjoy the rest of the night. After that, I'll let you think about it. If you want to give it a try, get back to me. If you don't... "

Clark cut it off by nodding his head. The conversation became difficult for Bruce. He was giving him a chance to decide what was going to happen between them. Bruce had probably been thinking about this for a long time, but not him.

"I'll think about it seriously. "

Bruce nodded.

"Okay. "

Clark smiled at him. He could see by Bruce's muscles how tense he was. He moved closer to him again, embracing him tenderly.

They hugged each other, taking their time again. If this was to be their last evening, they would make the most of it. Until exhaustion. Bruce was the first to give up, falling asleep at Clark's side. But Clark was far too deep in thought to fall asleep despite his fatigue: he had an important decision to make and he had to consider everything. He had an important decision to make and he had to consider everything. It was a decision that would affect his entire life.


	28. 8:00

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you'll enjoy this ending ;)

# 8:00

* * *

Bruce had difficulty lifting his eyelids. The ringing of his alarm clock twisted his ears and all his muscles screamed as he tried to turn it off. He forced himself to open his eyes to turn it off. 8:00 a.m. The empty place in his bed had been cold for a long time. Clark was no longer there.

He stretched to chase away his aches and pains, remnants of his torrid night with Clark. Probably his last night with him. He felt a pinch in his heart at the thought and blocked the feeling automatically. With the life he led, Clark's decision made the most sense. He knew him. Clark had always wanted to go back to a quiet life, start a family, earn a living without killing himself. Bruce couldn't give him any of that.

Clark... Bruce shook his head, thinking back to the first day he saw him. He had taken his hatred of their former bomb squad and had been ready to give him a hard time as soon as he arrived. Against all odds, Clark hadn't let himself be stepped on. It wasn't like the bomb squad in general, but he was the first one who dared to stand up to him and respond. This daring had irritated and surprised him, and he finally appreciated his rebellious side.

He had come to know him, to identify a little with him, and then to appreciate him. He had denied the extent of his affection for him until the day he was unable to contain himself and kissed him. Bruce was still ashamed of his misbehaviour at that time, but he had no regrets. Because what he was feeling had been strong enough to make him make the decision to throw away his code of honor and moral code. Because he had reneged on his own code of conduct, something he had always followed since the death of his parents.

Bruce passed his hands over his face. Never before a person had brought so much emotion to him. Never before he had let someone interfere so much in his personal life, become so close to him. Never before anyone had made him feel as alive as Clark does. Never before.

And he had made him leave. His heart tightened again and Bruce stood up to chase that feeling away. It was the best thing for them. Clark would be happier this way. He had made up his mind to let him go and go on his own. It had to be that way. It was better that way. It was better that he lost him now, rather than living with him and exposing him to a danger he couldn't protect him from. Maybe by repeating this over and over again, he would convince himself of that.

But the pain was pressing down on his chest and he was struggling to get it to leave. It was better that way. It was going to pass, he was going to forget Clark. That thought was unattainable. What Clark had done, what he had said, his memory... it would stay with him forever. But he had to get used to the thought of losing him. Clark wouldn't be happy with that kind of life. He couldn't guarantee him complete security. And he didn't know what the CIA would do to him to get him.

Bruce had already taken some steps to protect himself from their setback and was considering other strategies against them. In general, when the CIA wanted something, they took it. He had already been approached several times to become their agent and had been able to afford to refuse. His status allowed him to do so, as did his money. But from now on, it would no longer be enough.

He was not paranoid about the Agency, but realistic. He was not blind or ignorant about their actions and he had to be even more on his guard from now on. His actions in public would be observed by both the public and the government. He would never again be at peace in his life. The slightest misstep could cost him dearly if he didn't protect himself and pay attention.

That kind of life wasn't for Clark. It wasn't what he wanted for him, after all he had lived through, he deserved to have a full and happy life. He walked into his kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, immersed in his thoughts. At least they had had a good night. And there was no goodbye. It was better this way. It was... as if they were going to see each other again. Bruce stopped for a moment, his brain really started working again. His treasure hunt had upset Clark, when all he had wanted was to be careful and not be followed. But Clark...had...had he taken revenge? Please let him have it.

He scanned his surroundings, stifling as much hope as possible. And that's when he saw it. The dog tags. Hanging on the handle of his refrigerator, Clark's plates were proudly enthroned there, with a post-it stuck next to them. Bruce retrieved the plates and the note. A line of coordinates, but this time with a date and time. An appointment. A week from now.

Bruce passed the plates around his neck, letting a smile appear on his face. Clark kept him on his toes. He was giving him the opportunity to reach out to him, despite the life they might lead. He was making sacrifices, he was trying, unlike him who had chosen to flee. He was once again much braver than he was. He pressed the plates against his heart, happier than ever. Clark didn't consider how much by doing this he was saving his life again. Now it would be up to him to return the favor, to make up for his mistakes.

He looked at the coordinates again. No matter what happened, he would be at that meeting. He would indicate to Clark that he was ready to make a commitment to him. He wanted to live with him. He wanted him in his life. He loved him, and he would say it to his face. Every day that went by, he would tell him. He made a promise to himself. They were ready to start their new life and they would do it together. Their life in Iraq was now behind them and it was now up to them to live the rest of their story together.

* * *

**END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your reading, I hope it pleased you ! For more scenes that Bruce and Clark would have experienced together, I invite you to read the following "Those moments we shared (En)" , which will serve as a transition for part 2 "Bullets" currently being written.  
> Thank you again to follow this story till the end !


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